Sing For Me
by Wide-Eyed For Pontmercy
Summary: It feels odd to love and fear the same person. It's odder still when you've know that person for over half your life. And then you leave them forever, praying you made the right decision. In your heart, you know you haven't. *movie retelling* E/C and R/C
1. The Debut

**Hello! I have a few necessary things to say -**

**1) The first few chapters of this story aren't original. Trust me, the originality builds if you can get through chapter 1 and 2.**

**2) This is based _completely_ off the 2004 movie.**

**3) There are some typos, I'm sorry for that. In the new chapters, I've been trying to reduce the amount of mistakes.**

**4) THIS STORY IS COMPRISED OF THE EVENTS IN THE MOVIE, BUT ALSO DEPECTS THE THINGS THAT WEREN'T SHOWN. So, yes, Gerik is more dark and manipulative then you'd think, and yes, Raoul does have some entertaining moments. Oh, and...This story WILL continue on after the movie ends, and will only be finished when Raoul places the music box on Christine's grave.**

**So...Please read and review! Reviews are lovely and appreciated! :D**

Christine Daae looked up in shock as she realized that she would, again, be late for rehearsals. "Oh no! Angel, rehearsals have already begun!" Christine jumped up from her seat. Then she flushed, realizing that she wasn't singing. "_Madame Giry will be angry_!" she sang while pulling her auburn curls back and sliding on her dance shoes. Christine always sang instead of speaking when she was with her tutor, it was one of the things he commanded of her. She didn't mind though, because he sang almost everything he said to her with his lilting voice. Everyday, Christine went into her room, and was coached by the voice. He was her friend and mentor, helping her get over the loss of beloved her father when she came to the opera house at the tender age of seven. Christine was now a beautiful girl of sixteen, and a dancer at the opera house. Her tutor had plans for her to be something more, though, and he often told her that her voice was purer than any angel's.

" When you return to me tonight, my angel, it will be in triumph." he said mysteriously. Lessons were usually at night, though for the past few days her angel commanded that she also came in the morning and sing on the spot, saying she would need to be able to sing without warming up. Her angel was demanding and protective, but Christine didn't mind, as long as she had his approval.

The young Swede looked around the room, and frowned. She had felt the angel's presence leave, so she also quickly left. As she stood looking back into the room, Christine pondered about what her angel had said, for he was getting even more mysterious in his ways. She thought of the emotions his beautiful voice stirred in her now, emotions that were not feelings a daughter would have for a father. Such feelings confused her, and she usually tried not to think about them. Her mind was a mess of unease and anticipation as she hurried to rehearsals, praying Madame Giry would not notice her absence.

Meg Giry smiled as she looked up from tending to her ballet shoe. "You're lucky, rehearsals are late today, for there are two new men in here, claiming to be the new owners of the Opera Populaire!" she said to a breathless Christine who just finished powdering her dance shoes. They went to the other dancers and began to start their routine, all the while stealing glances at the supposed mangers. They rumors were confirmed when the former owner came out and said just that, "Yes, the rumors are true, I am retiring."

The tired man introduced the new managers as Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre, one a short man with a large mustache, the other tall with salt and pepper hair. The performers all looked on at the new owners with interest. The older dancers smiled coquettishly at them, whispering to each other," They must be rich!" Stagehands stared on drunkenly with smiles on their faces, and the ballet instructor, Madame Giry, simply sighed. "Let me introduce the new patron, Vicomte Raoul De Chagny." the old owner said. This time all the dancers stared, including Christine Daae. He was a man in his early twenties, with a boyishly handsome face and long curling honey-blond hair. He made a few polite comments, and explained that he was needed elsewhere, slowly taking his leave. Christine then whispered to Meg, "It's Raoul, from the house by the sea. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts." Meg cooed, "Oh, Christine, he is so handsome!"

He walked right by them, not even looking at Christine."He wouldn't recognize me," she said with a wistful smile, looking down at her revealing slave costume. "He didn't see you." Meg insisted, trying to comfort her sweet shook her head and began to dance with the rest of the ballerinas. The rehearsals continued with the new patrons watching. The diva's shrill voice irritated them ,so they went and watched the young dancers with Madame Giry. "Why, that's a splendid blond! "Monsieur Firmin said, taking in Christine's curvy friend.

"My daughter Meg." the elegant ballet instructor answered with a thin smile. The new owners nodded and continued to watch until a graceful, brunette caught MonsieurAndre's eye. "Who is that glorious brunette?" he asked Giry with a gleam in his eye. "Christine Daae, sir." she answered, hoping that they would leave the beautiful, but innocent gal alone. "A relative of the Swedish violinist ,perhaps?" She looked at the owner smugly and said, "His only child."

The song ended and Carlotta stormed over to the new owners complaining and saying that she quit. After a amount of fussing, it was finally known that Carlotta's costume was not ready for one of the numbers, and that she was annoyed at the attention mere dancers were getting. The new owners fawned over the diva, and got her to sing the main aria for them to appease her. The gentle piano music began to play, and the senora's shrill voice sang the sweet lyrics. Everyone grimaced and wished for it to end, and suddenly, it did! A backdrop fell on Carlotta and she toppled over, her large costume protecting her from harm. She angrily got up ignoring the owners' apologies, demanded her "doggy and boxy" and stormed out with her lover and the leading alto, Piangi.

"A FULL house, Andre! Do you want to refund a full house?" Monsieur Firmin yelled after the diva's departure. "Don't shout, Firmin. Surely there was an understudy?" Andre said, trying not to panic. "An understudy? There is no understudy for La Carlotta!" The conducter, a Monsieur Reyer, said in a panicked voice. The whole opera house was in an uproar, for this was a gala night, everyone who was anyone was coming!

"Christine Daae could sing it," Mme Giry said simply. The young girl looked up, shocked to hear her name mentioned. "What, a mere chorus girl? Nonsense." Firmin answered, dismissing the idea. "No, lets hear it." Andre said motioning for the now shy girl to come forward. Once she was in the center of the stage, Reyer said,"From the beginning of the aria,mademoiselle."

"Uh, this is doing nothing for my poor nerves, Andre." Firmin whispered. Everyone was still interested to hear the dancer sing, though.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye, remember me once in awhile, please promise me you'll try..." _her voice was pure and sweet, and with her beautiful face, she could easily become the next leading soprano. Everyone's jaw had dropped, especially Meg's, for she had not known that her friend had a throat made of crystal. "I believe we will have a Gala tonight after all, Andre!" Monsieur Firmin said with a grin. From below the floors of the stage, a masked man smiled at those words. He knew that Christine Daae would star in much more then a Gala.

"_Spare a thought for me._..." Christine sang from the stage. She was dressed in a exquisite white dress with diamond star clips in her auburn curls. With her beautiful looks and her voice, which was as pure as a bell, she looked like an angel.

From a box seat, Raoul De Chagny watched the soprano with fascination. He knew this girl!

"Christine?" he said, realizing that the singer was his childhood friend and sweetheart. _"_It seems so long ago...I wonder if she still remembers me, as I remember her!" He hummed along to the catchy tune Christine was singing, and hurried out of his box.


	2. The Beginning of the End

On the stage, Christine had just finished her song and was greeted with thunderous applause and bouquets of flowers. Opera goers had not heard that kind of singing in many years, and they were delighted with the beautiful Christine Daae. She smiled gratefully and made her way off the stage were Madame Giry left her daughter and helped Christine get through the crowds of fans and celebrators to her new dressing room.

As they walked, Christine turned to the right hall, instead of the left, where her remote dressing room was located. She had been given the room earlier that day by the generous new managers. It was just as splendid as La Carlotta's, but also included a little bed in it, since Christine had previously been sleeping in the ballet dormitories.

Mme Giry immediately understood Christine's decision, as at the end of the right hall was the door to get the chapel. Christine would want to be with the spirit of her father to celebrate her success. "Christine, you did well tonight," she said as she left the girl at the door of the church. Christine smiled to show her thanks, and turned to go inside. She picked up some of her heavy white skirts and gracefully sat down in a corner of the chapel where a picture of her father and candles were set up. Christine thought of her father and lite a candle in his honor. When he had talked of her becoming a star, she had always thought that he'd be there with her. But he had been dead for over ten years.

"_Brava, Brava, Bravissima.._." her angel congratulated her, his voice floating down from the high heavens. She smiled and looked around the room. Her angel's presence already made her begin to feel better. "Where in the world have you been hiding? You were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret, who is your great tutor?"

Christine jumped, then looked down shyly as Meg gracefully came into the chapel with a slightly scolding smile. Christine had never told anyone about the Angel, he had been her secret for years. But Meg was her closest friend, besides the angel, and Christine debated on whether she should finally tell her about him. She looked at the picture of her father, then murmured,''Father once spoke of an Angel, and I used to dream he'd appear. But when I came here, Meg, as a child, I learned that the Angel is real.Whenever I sing, he's there! I know he's always with me, he, the unseen genius!"

Meg noticed a difference in Christine as soon as she began to talk of an Angel of Music. She pulled Christine up, and they began to walk toward her dressing room. "Do you truly believe that?" Med asked curiously. Christine nodded, and gave a small laugh.

"Who else could he be, Meg?" Her eyes were wide and hopeful, and it alarmed the blond ballerina.

Meg couldn't decide to believe her friend or not. "Christine, you must have been dreaming. Stories like yours don't come true." The more Meg thought about Christine's words, the more disturbed she was. A strange man was singing to Christine, disguising himself under the facade of an angel. That was blasphemy, in the blond's mind. Christine remained oblivious to her friend's unease.

"_Angel of music! Guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!"_ Christine sang, the tune sounding like a lullaby. Meg recalled hearing Christine sing it before, and remembered how she had written it off as one of the songs from Christine's childhood. The soprano turned to her friend and smiled. How could she not feel the presence of the angel now? He was surely with them.

Meg mused aloud,"Who is this strange angel?" Christine shrugged her shoulders, and they continued to walk forward. Christine continued to sing, "_Angel of Music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!"_ A sudden burst of chilly air hit them as the reached the soprano's dressing room. Both Christine and Meg shivered. "He's with us even now, Meg..." Christine murmured. Meg shivered again at Christine's eery words.

She reached out and grasped Christine's small hands. "Your hands are cold, and your face is so white!" For a moment, Christine looked troubled. "Sometimes, he frightens me." Meg stared into Christine's eyes. Her friend's fantastic story about an angel couldn't be true, and Christine's words were only confirming it. "Don't be frightened," Meg consoled. In her mind, however, she believed that Christine had every reason to be scared. She planned to tell her mother about Christine's "angel" and leave the problem in her capable hands. The two friends bid each other goodbye, and Meg left to go celebrate with the other dancers.

Christine passed through the threshold for her dressing room, and was immediately bombarded with the smell of flowers. All the surfaces in her room were covered with every type of flower imaginable. Christine breathed in the heavenly scent and felt the soft bloom of a pink rose. A knock sounded against the door, and Mme Giry entered, baring a red rose with a black silk ribbon tied around the slim stem.

"He is pleased with you," she murmured, then left, but not before seeing the huge smile on Christine's face. Christine had never told her about the angel, but somehow, the ballet instructor had known. Christine sat down at her vanity fingering the silk bow, thinking about the angel, and what the rose might mean. He had given her similar gifts before. Christine wished he would appear before her, and physically give her the rose. She was so wrapped in thought that she didn't hear the door opening yet again.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought; am I fonder of dolls or of goblins, or shoes?" Raoul said, coming into the room and bearing a somewhat garish display of pink roses. "Raoul!" Christine shouted excitedly, getting up from her chair. "Or of chocolates and frocks?" the Vicomte continued, quoting the tale that Christine's father once told them. They continued the game until it ended with Christine saying the last line, like she had as a child. There was no awkwardness as they shared a tender hug. "You sang like an angel tonight, Christine," Raoul mumbled against Christine's curls. She pulled away from his arms to stare earnestly into the Victome's blue eyes.

"Before Father died, he promised to send me the Angel to protect me. Father is dead, Raoul. And I have been visited by the Angel of Music!" she gushed. It felt natural for Christine to tell her childhood friend about her secret. Raoul answered, "No doubt about it, Christine!" He wasn't sure whether to take Christine's claim seriously. She had always had a vivid imagination as a young girl.

Christine smiled shyly, then said, "Raoul, I am delighted to see you, it's been too many years!" The Victome had grown from a mischievous boy into a very handsome man, and that fact hadn't gone unnoticed by Christine. Raoul stared at her with a hungry grin. "As am I to see you. My, Little Lotte, you sure have grown." She blushed and looked down. "So, now, how about we go to supper." Raoul had meant it as a question, but it had come out as a statement. He grinned. "We have lots of catching up to do!"

Christine looked away from his eager face. "No, Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict. Perhaps another night." she said, but faltered. "Oh, I shan't keep you up late!" he teased, and walked towards the door. She looked at him, with her big doe eyes, and Raoul sent another grin her way. "You must change, I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte!" He gave a debonair little bow, then hurried out the door.

Christine sighed after he left. Even in that short amount of time, he had claimed some of her heart, but must he so stubborn? Christine smiled to herself. The hero of her childhood had grown into such a charming young man. Who could have imagined that they would meet again as adults? Christine thoughtfully rose from her dressing table seat. She wasn't really sure if dinner was such a bad idea, though, because it was getting late, and soon she would be hungry.

Christine went behind her screen and took off the elaborate dress with a sigh. She still had her white corset on,and she pulled on a pretty cream and white dressing gown with a neckline and bell sleeves trimmed in thick lace. The luxurious thing was a gift from the managers to celebrate her new stardom. "Well, just in case I go to dinner with Raoul..."she thought, and stepped out from behind the screen, fastening the cord. What would she wear?

"_Insolent b__oy, this slave of fashion! Basking_ _in_ your g_lory_! _Ignorant fool; this brave young suitor,_ _sharing in __my__triumph_!" the Angel sang scornfully. Christine couldn't remember the last time she had heard the angel sound so angry. She looked around the room, and settled on looking at the ceiling.

"_Angel! I_ _hear you! Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me...enter at last, master!"_ She tried to appease his anger, and apologized for even thinking about going to dinner. Christine again wished for him to appear before her. Seeing his heavenly face would greatly appease her for missing the chance to dine with Raoul.

"_Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadows I hide...look in your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" _His voice had softened and slowly became more powerful as he continued his song. Christine realized that he would finally appear before her. Her heart began to pound as she joyfully sing, _"Angel of Music, guide and guardian...Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music, hide no longer, come to me, strange Angel..."_

She looked toward the large mirror on her wall, like her angel had commanded. The room had mysteriously darkened, and all of the candles had somehow blown out. The mirror began to shimmer. The form of a tall, regal man in dark clothes and a white mask settled behind the glass. Christine could barely breathe from her excitement.

"I am your Angel of Music...come to the Angel of Music..." The Angle murmured, his voice hypnotic and low. Christine walked toward the mirror, completely caught in his spell. She hesitantly faced the glass as he continued to sing to her, and she stared in shock as he held out a thin hand clad in black leather. "Come to the Angel of Music," he commanded, and in the background, Christine heard Raoul shouting about something. It didn't matter to her though, and she sealed her fate by placing her pale hand into his.


	3. Seduction

To the few, wonderful people reading this story,I'm sorry its been so long since an update! I've been rather busy with school and sports and the likes...as well as starting a new story( I know I shouldn't have:)..Check it out thought, please. Its called, Dreaming the World Away. And now for Chapter Three!

Christine woke to the gentle tinkling of a music box. She glanced around in surprise, then suddenly, everything came flooding back to her. The Angle of Music had come to her through her dressing room mirror, then led her to below the opera house. Except that he wasn't really the Angel, he was the Phantom of the opera! They had sang a powerful, mysterious song while he guided her through a tunnel lite by ornate gold candelabras, then the angel helped her mount a huge and majestic black horse. "_He helped me into a gondola, then as I leaned against his legs, he commanded me to sing and I sang like I never have before, my voice rising to new heights, I sang with my soul, and it was just for him!" _Christine thought. "_The lake was covered in swirling mist...as the gondola got father, huge chandeliers rose from the water and lite, as if by magic. He gently pulled me from the boat as we reached a mysterious dwelling. He sang to me the most beautiful song about the music of the night while we basked in the golden light of his home. The way he held me and sang made my heart race. When the song was drawing near its end, he smiled at me and pulled me around an unexplored corner. I smiled hugely in return, then it was as if I was looking in a mirror. A figure of me in a wedding dress...I remember nothing after that. I must have fainted! How embarrassing! He must have carried me to this bed. Who is he....this man, the Angel of Music, or a Phantom?"_ she pieced together everything from the previous night quickly, then pulled the chord for the bed's canopy.

She pulled herself out of the soft bed and looked around in awe. The bed was shaped like a swan, and a mirror was across from it, its frame decorated like roses were crawling up the sides. There was a wardrobe the same color as the swan bed, and some richly colored pillows on the floor by it. The little room was divided by silk blankets, and Christine pushed them aside and was met with the lair's splendor. She gasped, and took in the statues, candles, and sheets upon sheets of music with an awed face. She looked around slowly and realized that she remembered everything from last night, but when he had been there, she had been to distracted to take in the lair's complete beauty. The singer continued to look around and walk until she heard the faint sounds of an organ playing a sweet,familiar tune.

She continued to walk toward it with wide eyes. Would the man who had sung to her so beautifully last night be there? She felt nervous as he came into view. The Phantom's back was toward her, and he was bent over an organ covered with music sheets and candle stubs. Christine silently approached him, and before she thought, reached up to his face and caressed it with her hand. He jumped slightly, then leaned his head against her small palm and continued to play the song, sighing softly. She had the strong urge to rip the mask off his handsome face, then decided against it, for whatever reason he had it on, it was obvious that he didn't want it removed. She brought her other hand up to tough the smooth white of the mask, then let her hands fall as the song came to an end. She had recognized it from the previous night, but it had been played more gently and tenderly then when he had sang it to her. The Angel then rose swiftly and faced her with a look Christine couldn't comprehend. She looked down, then back up at him again. Now his dark blue-green eyes were smoldering with emotion as he stared at her, and she returned his gaze, thoroughly seduced by just his look. He abruptly turned away, and she felt foolish and awkward in the silence. He seemed to be staring at a sheet of music, and Christine glanced around the lair, and settled on him again. He was wearing a beautiful black housecoat that had ornate designs at the hems.

Without thinking, she murmured. "I like your housecoat...." She immediately felt like an imbecile , and then,to her surprise, he laughed and looked at her once again. She blushed at his chuckle and noted how even that sound was lovely to her ears. "...and I like your dressing gown." He answered while looking at the lacy white thing that barely covered her pale body. She flushed again, then joined in his laughter as she realized they were both in inappropriate clothing. "Are you hungry?"he said after their laughter had quieted. Christine noted she was and nodded. "I'll prepare something. You'll find everything you need here." the Angel said, then turned and then vanished into the faint darkness. She peered out for him, saw that he was really gone, then sighed. Feeling nosy, Christine glanced at the music strewn across the organ's top, and quickly sightread. They were all very challenging pieces. She walked back to her curtained room slowly and took in the lair. There was a fireplace, a huge throne-like chair and countless small tables and pillows scattered about. It was cluttered, but somehow that just made it all the more mysterious and lovely, _like him_...she thought.

Once returning to her space, she went to the wardrobe and hesitantly pulled it open. It was filled with beautiful gowns that were made of the finest materials. Still feeling awkward, she selected a smooth dark red gown and changed. There was a silver-backed brush in one of the drawers, but she didn't feel like tackling her huge curls, so she left her hair completely down. _He has seen me in a dressing gown, so why should I bother with the fixing my hair?"_ she thought and smiled. She was about to close the drawer when a small,but bright white box caught her eyes. Christine plucked it out from the dark drawer and opened it eagerly. She gasped with surprise and delight when she saw the box's contents. It was a ring, and the most gorgeous one that Christine had ever seen. A red rose bloom was at the top, and the curving gold-rimmed stem made up the band. A ruby was in the center of the bloom, and its blood red color caught the candle's light and shone on the walls. A tiny black ribbon was etched around the stem, and its curling ends reached the tips of the band. She put it on her ring finger, instinctively, and it fit perfectly. She realized it was were an engagement ring would go, then switched it to her right hand quickly. She smiled down at the ring, then pushed aside the rooms curtains and ventured to the outer lair.

"Christine." the voice that spoke her name was velvety,and she jumped in surprise as the Phantom emerged form the darkness. "Angel..."she answered and walked to meet him. "You like the dresses?" he inquired and glanced at the red silk she wore. "Yes! Thank you, they are very beautiful..."she peeked down at the ring and wondered how she would thank him for it, but he saved her by saying, "You found the ring. I made it for you...do you like?" She stared at the ring, then grabbed his hands and looked at them with awe. "You made this?! Angel, you never fail to amaze me!"she gushed. He looked at her small hands wrapped around his one hand, then said in a subdued voice, "Well, thats good, I suppose. Come, lets get you breakfast." Christine followed as he led through dark passages that had been unseen to her only minutes before. She was confused at his ever-changing emotions, about why he would go from being pleased to forlorn, or distant to passionate in a matter of seconds.

Soon enough, he turned and said quietly, "The dining room." Christine entered and looked at the small,detailed table. There was a silver tray with a plate of pancakes and two cups set on the side. There was a another table that was set low to the ground that was surrounded by pillows tucked into the corner. She walked toward it with an inquiring look in her eyes. "Just another souvenir from my travels." the Phantom said in a dismissive way. Christine thought the little table was actually quite fetching, so she asked in a timid voice, "Can we eat there?If its not too much trouble, of course-" He looked at her in a bemused way and quickly lifted the tray off and over to the low table. She smiled and gracefully sank into a cushion. The Angel handed her the plate and cup, and took the remaining mug for himself.

"You are not going to eat?" She asked, feeling self conscious while he watched her cut the pancakes. "I do not eat much, but you should enjoy your meal." he encouraged. She ate in silence for a few moments, then suddenly asked, "Do you have a name, besides Angel or Phantom?" He looked shocked, then said, "I was once called Erik." Christine smiled and said, "It suits you! I've finished, would you like me to-" He then interrupted her saying, "No, I will take care of the plates. Can you find your way back to the main room? I am still your singing instructor, lessons will continue. There is a song I want you to learn." She nodded, and again he disappeared before her eyes. She made her way through the halls and back into the golden main room. Taking a seat on the organ bench, she noticed a sheet of music called, "The Point of No Return." The title caught her interest and she saw that it was a duet for vocals. "I see you've found it." Erik said, and Christine jumped. He always approached so silently! "Lets warm you up, then you can learn the music." She nodded and stood while he went and sat were she had previously.

" _Past ...the point of no return! No going back now! Our passion-play has now at last begun!" _The soprano sung the fiery words and blushed. "Christine, you are singing the same way you would for Think of Me! This song is full of passion and fire and love! You sing with a different voice for songs like these!"Erik rumbled. She looked down and thought, _Well,I have never sung a song like this! _He got up from the organ and said, " I suppose thats enough for today. I do not want to stress your voice. What would you like to do now?" She looked down, then murmured, "I wish to talk with you." He smirked then said, "About what, my angel?" Christine looked up at him boldly. She was always in a state of slight awe around him. "About anything and everything! I want to know all about you." He looked at her sadly then guided her to a comfortable looking chair,and sat next to her. "I am afraid there will be many things I won't tell you, but ask away, my songbird." She nodded and opened her mouth to voice her first question.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Christine. She and Erik had sat at the couch and talked for hours. He had somehow always switched the topic back to her, but she still had learned many new things about her maestro. He was an orphan like her, but his parents had abandoned him by choice, not death. He had traveled the world, was an architect as well as a musician, had never been married, played eight instruments, liked to ride and swim,and his favorite colors were gold,black, and amber. Many of the things he would allow himself to tell her were trivial, but she was glad he would told her all the same.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Christine, it is nearly three in the morning! I must get you to bed!" Erik said in surprise as he glanced at his gold pocket watch. She yawned and leaned on to his shoulder. He nearly felt his heart stop at the simple movement. "Can I just slee-eeppp(yawn) on the this?" she gestured to the silken couch on which they were perched. "No, you may not! You'll hurt your back!" he growled and took a deep breath. He was about to take a test to see how repulsed she was of him. Erik gently lifted her up and carried her to her swan bed, like he had the previous night. He was surprised when she sighed and muttered a good night as he set her down. He pulled the canopy cord and went to his bedroom. _Why has she not demanded to be taken back up to her world of light yet? What is the meaning of her wanting to know about me? Surely perfect Christine does not _care _for me! I am much too hideous and repulsive to deserve her pure affections... _But as he lay awake and thought, he allowed himself to hope.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christine wiped a tear away from her amber-colored eyes. She had awoken and dressed silently and crept from her room to hear the most beautiful music being played. Erik was leaning over a grand piano and seemed enchanted with the sound of his own playing. She watched him and felt sad, and didn't know why. The girl thought about the tune he was playing. For whatever reason, it made her miss her deceased father terribly. She hummed along with the tune, then the words seemed to pour out of her. She walked forward and sang,

"_Wishing you were somehow here again...wishing you were somehow near.....sometimes it seems,if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here! Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would. Dreaming of you ,it won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could!" _

Christine broke off, and gasped, she had thought she was over her father's death by now. Looking up, she saw that Erik stopped playing and was staring at her in awe, a look she only received when singing. "I'm sorry, that was...I'm sorry, I know you like to be by your self in the morni-" He interrupted her and said in amazement, "Christine, that was beautiful. And I prefer your company to being by myself." She was staring at her hands, still ashamed of being so insecure and weak when in the presence of a man who seemed more like a god. "You still miss him very much." He said quietly, taking her blush and teary eyes in account.

"Yes, but I should be over his death by now! It has been six years. I probably would be much worse, though, if you hadn't first sang to me on that cold January night which now seems so long ago..." she whispered,then mockingly laughed at herself and continued, "I always have wanted to write and sing a song in my father's honor, but it seems I cannot do so without first stealing your tune." She looked at his shocked face, then back at the ground. He got up and lifted her face to meet his, saying, "Don't say that, Christine. What you sang, it was beautiful, full of sweet innocence that I could have never dreamed up...You surprise me sometimes.." She offered a weak smile, and he answered it with a brisk nod and proceeded to take her thin arm and lead her to the dining room for breakfast. _I am falling for his darkness._She thought, but it did'nt bother her, and she followed with thoughts only of her Phantom.


	4. So Naïve

I have and will continue to make minor changes to the movie's details to better suit my story. Oh, and I don't know how that chapter glitcht happened, sorry bout that! Other then that, enjoy my least favorite chapter!

Christine sighed after eating a perfectly made omelet. She thought about every meal that Erik served her was flawlessly cooked and spiced, and how he never let her cook or clean up afterwards. The queen treatment flattered her, but she also felt useless and young compared to him. There was a bit of awkwardness during the meal, and she had eaten in silence while Erik had just his usual hot drink. They finished, and when he went to go clean everything up, the auburn-haired girl wandered off into the main room like she had the previous day. She had noted the paintings of the opera house, and saw the portraits of herself as well. When she had first glimpsed them, Christine had been shocked and embarrassed, for she had looked flawless and innocent. _Well, I am innocent..._Christine remembered herself thinking as she walked over to inspect the pictures, getting over her embarrassment. She was actually a big fan of art, and loved to draw, but her meager wages from the chorus girl position usually didn't allow for too much follies. She had never actually told her angel about her painting, but she supposed he knew by now anyway.

" Hmmm" She muttered while inspecting the paintings. One in particular caught Christine's attention. It was of her, eyes closed, with a peaceful expression, wild reddish curls fanned out over a maroon silk pillow, a scanty white dressing gown barely seen before the painting ended. Christine realized this was her after she had fainted that first night. He had drawn her while she was sleeping. She wasn't sure whether she was flattered or terrified. "Oh!" Erik had silently crept up behind her, and was looking at her with an almost expectant expression. "What do you think, my dear?" She looked down, and a blush heated her long neck and high cheekbones. She decided to be flattered, after all, she was living here now. "I think you are a very skilled artist. But you make me...too pretty." She had been fidgeting with the bell sleeve of her dressing gown, and looked up to see him shake his head at her. "Oh, Christine, you really are too humble. Come, lets go to the organ, I've been working on a song. You shall know it." She followed, and realized that she had never changed. Her normal routine here was to change into a proper dress after breakfast, and she was still in the tight pink nightgown and dressing gown from the previous night. Christine thought about changing, but he seemed excited about the new piece, and was it really that unproper to just wear nightclothes all day? He sat down on the organ's bench with the practiced grace of a feline, and offered a hand to asst her when she joined him.

"Do you remember the song we sang when I brought you ,uh, down here?" She started when her angel actually said 'uh', a word used by common people. "Yes! Of course I do. Why?" Christine felt somewhat offended that he thought she could forget the haunting song they sang after he had revealed himself as a mere human. "I've written some music to it. I want your opinion on whether it fits. Shall we?" She looked up at him in confusion. Did he want her to sing it now? All the sudden, intense, magical music began to play. The notes rang up and down, and she felt it rattle her bones with the sound, and liked it. It was now hard to imagine them singing the song she privately called 'The Phantom of the Opera' without this powerful tune. She stopped watching him play, and imagined when he had led her down the opera. The tune sort of changed, pulling her out of the memory, and Christine realized it was her opening to sing. "_In sleep he sang to me...."_

The song was almost over and Christine was hypnotized with the sound of her singing merging with a much lower, deeper voice. "Sing, my Angel."She began the vocalizing, and started to worry. What if she couldn't hit the higher notes again? He stopped playing the organ, and stood behind her, his hands on her lower ribs. Christine really stopped singing all together, then realized he was just instructing her for the music, since he was still her maestro. Still, his touch was hot, and she pushed herself to hit those bright notes, feeling as if it was the most important thing in the world._ "Sing for me!" _And she hit the e, her voice echoing in the lair. He let go of her, and the soprano beamed up at her tutor. "Good. Did you like the organ with it?" Again, the piece ran through her mind, and she enthusiastically gasped, "Yes. I can't imagine the song without it!" Erik gave her that private smile which she still couldn't interrupt, and they conituned with singing his music for hours.

"What do you want to do now, mon ange?" Erik asked her, bent over his organ and skillfully drawing in notes for a new composition. She watched him for a few moments, then thought about how he fervently granted her every wish. Surely he wouldn't mind if she asked to do something without him, right? "Ummm, Could I draw for a bit? If you don't mind, of course!" Christine felt the blush on her face and looked down. She hated asking for things. "Of course I don't mind! Christine, everything is here for you. Only you. Come, the art supplies are off in another hall, shall we go retrieve them?" Again, he would stop what he was doing to please her! "Oh, really, its okay. I can go get them myself, you just finish composing." He looked away from her quickly, but not before she saw a defeated, crestfallen look pass his face. "They are in a room at the end of that hall."He pointed to a gold curtained door, "Turn left once you get there, turning right will lead you back up." He wouldn't look at her, and Christine wondered what he was talking about. Then it hit her. The Phantom thought she would leave him! That heart-broken expression on his face was because of her!

"I'm sorry, but actually, I think I'd prefer if you showed me the way. Perhaps you can work on the composition later?" She felt stupid, but he lept up from the bench and gave her a hidden smile. Her request had pleased him. Erik took her arm and led her to the supplies.

" I will get dressed completely today!" Christine told herself as she rose from her swan bed. Only once during her time under the opera house had she donned one of the beautiful dressed Erik had given her. Sh browsed through the vast selection of gowns, and decided on a light, sheer blue. She donned the necessary white corset, then procrastinated with the difficult lacing on the back of the gown. "Perhaps, I'll just change after breakfast. I don't want to ruin the gown." She instead pulled on her dressing gown over her under things, and slid the rose ring into the tiny pocket near her thigh. Christine was almost embarrassed that is was so dear to her. She didn't want him to see that she always had it, even dressed in night clothes.

He was seated at the organ, like the previous mornings. The urge to pull of the snowy mask on Erik's face was intensely strong, and Christine decided to give in to it. Though she found the mask alluring and attractive, she wanted to see under it even more. He had pulled away before, when she had let her fingers wander over it, but she thought they knew each other well enough to be past that. The beauty worried that he might turn angry, so she sang to warn him as she approached. She got carried away as she remembered the glory of her first night there.

"_I remember there was mist, swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake. There were candles all around, and in the lake there was a boat....And in the boat there was mannn!...Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?" _She stood behind him, and caressed his face with her fingers while he sighed contently, then ripped off the mask. She was not prepared for what lay under it.

"Damn you! _You little prying Pandora! You little viper! _THIS is what you wanted to see?" Her angel screamed obscenities at her and lunged to kill, or so she thought. Christine shrank back under the cover of a statue, and cowered in fear and horror. The left side of his perfect face was contorted in fury, the right an angry red and pink mess of scared flesh. The effect was terrifying, at first. His rage seemed to drain quickly, then he became eerily calm and sang,_ "Stranger then you dreamt it, can you even bear to look, or bear to think of me now!...This loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell!...but secretly yearns for heaven secretly, secretly_..." Christine felt her heart break into little pieces. She had been terrified by his hideous appearance, when he was just a man. She had destroyed his little time of peace they had shared.

_ "But, Christine, fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see the man behind this monster, this repulsive carcass who seems a beast, but secretly dreams of beauty...secretly.." _Christine had subconsciously crawled over to Erik, she wanted to end all of his past hurts and horrors. He held out his hand, and she gently gave the mask back. The tears that had pooled in her amber eyes betrayed her calm appearance as he turned away from her and placed the mask on his face. "Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." She took his arm, and he led her back up to this surface in silence. The magic was gone. Because of her undying curiosity.

They reached the mirror-portal quickly. "Erik, I'm.." Christine turned to tell him of her regret over taking his mask, but there was only darkness. She pulled out the rose ring that was still in her pocket,and traced the pattern of the petals before putting it back and opening the portal. Bright, painful light flooded her sensitive eyes, and she stumbled into the dressing room. Meg was slumped in the couch, snoring lightly. What was she doing in the dressing room. "Meg. Meg, its Christine. What's" She never got to finish her question as Meg jerked awake, then lept up and crushed Christine in her small, but strong dancer arms.

"Christine, your safe! I'm so glad! Christine!" She finally released the startled singer, then inspected her critically. "You look like you've seen a ghost Where were you? I'll need to go tell my mother your okay...Are you okay?" Christine looked at her curiously, then glanced at her reflection in the portal/mirror. She looked horribly terrified. Her white skin was ashy and dark purple circles ringed her eyes. Since she hadn't done anything to her hair during her time with Erik, it bounced off her head in huge, wild curls, and it completed the petrified look. She hadn't realized how tired she was. During her stay, she had woken up early and gone to bed late to spend more time with her Angel...or Phantom. "'m fine. Just...tired actually. I hope you weren't too worried?"she yawned.

"I was worried! Mother said you'd be fine, but I wasn't so sure. Shall I go get her and Raoul, I heard he's at the opera house looking for you. You were gone nearly three days!" Christine best friend watched her with a worried eyes, but Christine knew she must be alone to deal with her shame and to sleep. "Its okay,Meg. I'd rather you didn't get your mother here. I need to be alone. Do not send anyone up. Please, I know Raoul will want to come and visit. I cannot have him here." Christine felt the most horrid thing on earth. Besides hurting Erik, she had forgotten all about Raoul, Meg, Mme Giry, really her whole life, while they had been worrying about her. She had been so naïve and selfish "Okay, ifs that want you want. You do seem horribly tired. Sleep well, Christine." she closed the blinds and shut the door then left.

Christine waited till she heard the footsteps fads, then pulled out the rose ring and clutched it to her chest. The flowers from her gala night performance still littered all the space in her room, but by now, they were all starting to droop. She forced herself to go over to the dresser, The red rose had wilted. The bouquets Raoul had given her were still thriving. She collapsed on her sofa-bed and wept. Christine cried for a good hour, then felt numb with too many emotions to even think. She was grateful, and finally fell into a deep sleep..


	5. Betrayed

"I advise you not to do it, monsieur. It will only lead to tragedy, of this I am sure." Christine gently opened her tired brown eyes at the faint whispering and little light let in through the cracked-open door. Mme Giry was holding a candle and peering at her, and at her left, she could make out Raoul's tall frame and see a hint of gold hair. She realized that it was probably night, and that she had slept the whole day away, for after she had come to the above world, it had been morning.

"Madame, do you not see that the monster needs to be put in his place? Those letters he sent to us were preposterous, only a delusional man would obey those rules! He kidnapped my Christine! He nearly injured the leading soprano! This 'Phantom' must be stopped at all costs!" Raoul's voice had raised. And she heard Madame Giry whisper, "Shh! Do not wake her." Christine saw Raoul duck his fair head, and shift from his stance from behind the ballet mistress to look at her supposedly sleeping form.

She barely closed her eyes in time. "My sweet, innocent Christine. Look how afraid she looks, even now, in her sleep, safe from that beast. Why did he have to target her, kidnap her, the most beautiful, kind thing in this whole damned opera house?" He was murmuring quietly, and she dared to peep her eyes open a little to see Mme Giry shake her head and start to pull the door closed.

"For those very reasons, Monsieur Le Vicomte. A sweet rose in the midst of weeds. Though I believe she chose him as well." She said the last part after a short pause. They were slowly walking away, and Christine barley could hear their voices. "She was very alone when she first came here. The "Angel" was her teacher and only friend besides my daughter. Their relationship grew into something more over the years. I don't believe he kidnapped her, I believe she went willingly." There was a shocked silence, then Raoul's disbelieving words of, "Madame! I really don't think Christine feels anything for this Phantom but terror!" A sad, sarcastic chuckle from Mme Giry followed his innocent words, and the woman wearily stated, "Monsieur Raoul, you have much to learn about Mlle Daae." The footsteps and quiet voices faded, and soon, Christine heard nothing.

"Am I so innocent?" She wondered in the solitude of her dark room. The singer felt too guilty to ever be called innocent. She had eavesdropped, and even forgot all about her life when she was down with her Phantom. A shamed blush heated her ashy face when she thought how pleased she was to realize that he was hers. After an hour of trying to banish the thought from her mind, trying to sleep again, and wondering what Mme Giry and Raoul had been talking about, she rolled out of bed. The effort to sleep would be useless. Bleary eyed and pale as she was, her mind was active, and an idea had struck that was seeming more attractive by every minute. The girl grabbed the light jacket on the peg by her door, and her feet found the little leather flats she wore outside of dance practice. Then she was free, roaming down the dark hallways, the only light coming from the few high windows at the ends of the halls. It gave her a perverse thrill to know that the rest of the opera house was sleeping, except for her, and probably the Erik, who was always awake. She was soon atop the stairs that led into the grand foyer.

The huge room was bathed in the faint silvery glow of the moon that peaked in through the heavy curtains on the large windows. Everything was gold and black and white. Christine's childish bliss at being awake at when everyone else was not was gone. Instead, she felt a draft and shivered and pulled her long jacket even tighter around her shoulders. The air carried a sense of forbidding horror. The elegant, grand room reminded her too much of the Phantom and she felt disturbed to know that just colors reminded her of him. But memories of him couldn't stop invading her thoughts. The music of the night was already controlling her mind. Slowly, she graced the stairs,as if in a trance, and in a scratchy,soprano voice began to sing, _" How I've opened up my mind,let my secret fantasies unwind,in a darkness that I know I cannot fight! The darkness of your music of the night..."_ She blinked and looked around at the empty foyer. The eerie spell that had just overcame her had vanished, and she had the wary sense of someone watching her. If there was a person, she knew who it would be. "Angel." She breathed and glanced around her shoulders. The room seemed empty, but he could be hiding in one of the many shadows.

A voice floated down from the Heavens, too perfect for any mortal. _"Angel.."_ It sang back, and Christine ached and hurt and almost wanted him to come down and sing and hold her. She felt confused and scared with her mixed up emotions, and fled to her only haven. The Chappelle. The doors welcomed her, and she pushed them open and latched them shut with a heave after securing herself inside. The airy magic of the room calmed her down, and she smiled at the single lite candle in the corner. The soprano walked over to it and removed it from the stand, and lite the candles surrounding her father's little shrine in the back. She sighed and took off her jacket, the little room was quite warm, and carefully put it on the ground before the shrine. Christine sat down, grateful for the jacket to provide some cushion against the stone floor. She had a feeling that she'd be there awhile.

"Father, I need your guidance more then ever! Please help me, God...Please...Don't send me anymore Angels, just guide me with your love..." Christine prayed to her father and God, whom she knew her father would be with in Heaven. She sat there for hours, till her lids began to droop, and finally, her head slumped, and she sank all the way to the cold ground.

A man silently came into Christine's viewpoint. But she was sleeping heavily, and was completely oblivious as he put a maroon silk pillow under her head, and a heavy, but soft, purple blanket on her, his hands lingering over her shoulder and tracing the delicate curve of her neck. He turned to the shrine and placed something at the base of it, then turned back to the girl. His eyes were a light blueish silver with flicks of gold, and they were filled with emotions, tall-tell sparkle of tears. "Forgive me for what I've done...and what I will do." He whispered as he stroked her abundant curls, then he seemingly disappeared.

"Christine? Christiiiiinnneeee?....There you are!" A door creaked, and sunlight poured into the Chapel. "Uhhh........." The previously sleeping girl groaned, and pulled the soft blanket to cover her eyes. Th movement woke her up with a start. During her nighttime frolic, she had not brought a pillow or blanket, just a jacket. Then muscular legs came into view, and the low, sweet voice of Meg Giry filled her ears. "Why are you down here?" She sounded curious and a bit worried. Christine thought quickly. "I couldn't sleep, so I came down to be with my father. I brought these," she gestured to the fancy beddings, "which are gifts from the gala night, since I knew I would be here awhile." She smiled after her lame story. Meg nodded, it was the sort of dreamy thing Christine was known for doing, and said, "Well, there is rehearsal for the new opera today. Are you feeling well enough to come?"

Christine quickly said, "Yes," and Meg beamed and turned for the door. The brunette quickly glanced at the portrait of her father lovingly before she went. Then she stopped dead. There was a rose, a blood red rose, at the base of the shrine. She laughed quietly, a disturbed laugh, and felt herself start to fall.

"Are you ready?" Meg asked while turning to face her friend. Christine pulled herself together just in time, and her few senses told her to arch herself over the rose to prevent Meg from ever laying eyes on it. "Yes, lets go." She whispered, and deftly shoved the flower into the blanket's folds. They walked out to her dressing room/ bedroom and the blond left her at the door, promising to have her mother fill the in the details that Christine had missed during her stay beneath the opera house. The singer watched her friend hurry down the hallway to not be late for dance rehearsals. Once Meg was gone, Christine went into her room and spread the luxurious blanket over her little bed, and placed the pillow over the thin one she usually slept on. The rose remained in her pale hands, and she absent-mindfully twirled it about, humming a verse from Think of Me and thinking about not thinking.

"May I come in?" Christine jumped about a foot as the door opened without her permission. The elegant woman who entered would not need Christine's assent anyway. "Madame Giry!" The girl said in a warm voice as a welcome. She threw the rose to the ground, but realized the dance instructor's sharp eyes had probably already caught it. Even so, they both chose to ignore the splash of red on the cream-colored floor. "I have come here to talk to you about the new opera, IL Muto." Christine nodded, she remembered Meg talking about it. "I am sorry to say that you will not have the leading role of countess, for Signora Carlotta has returned. In fact, you will not have any singing role, and will be playing Serafimo, the title role. There has been some problems with the casting while you were gone, in the form of notes, but I trust that you will not fuss about your new part, even though you starred in the gala?" Mme Giry's voice was calm and persuasive, as if she was speaking to a disagreeable child. The singer felt herself flush indignantly,"Of course I will not throw a fit, I'm no diva. When do the rehearsals begin?" The dancer nodded approvingly, and said, "After our conversation, you will go down. The good thing about being the mute is you are not needed down on the stage every waking moment, like the chorus or lead ballerinas." They smiled at each other, then the madame took a deep breathe, and said, "There is another thing I need to talk to you about. As a mother,I feel like I should ask.... I'm asking about your, ah, honor.... Is it still intact after your time with the Opera Ghost?" She finally found her tongue, then looked down patiently on the slight girl, and Christine wondered what she meant. "Honor?" She mused aloud, then understood, and her white skin, which had just recovered from the angry flush, turned pink once again. "Yes, yes, God, he would never-" Christine babbled. "It was never awkward, he never did anything like...like that! I was...I think I was actually happy down below the opera..." She whispered to herself.

Her head was down, so the soprano never saw the older woman's troubled, understanding glance. "Ah, ma cherie, things will be right again, just give it time." Mme Giry seemed to pull herself together, and was once again the mother, pulling the singer into a gentle hug. Christine hugged back, but as they broke away, she whispered, "I don't think it ever will be." The woman pretended not to hear, and returned to being the brisk ballet instructor. "Well,it is time to go down to rehearsals, just tell me if you get too tired." She opened Christine's door and fairly pushed the girl out. "Madame.." Christine complained softly. "Let us not be late.." She just answered,but thought '_If I stay here a minute longer, I shall find myself saying things that are not meant to ever be heard, especially by this girl...or maybe this is the very girl that should hear the truth...'_ But she pushed aside her inner turmoil, and went down to the stage and began to instruct her ballerinas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~many days later~~~

"_Poor fool, he makes me laugh, ha ha ha Haaaaaa...." _Christine simpered along to Carlotta's shrill singing, the perfect picture of an lover. She was extremely embarrassed, though, and only her acting skills prevented the other cast members from seeing it. They all saw her blush, however. Her men's form-fitting trousers,top and the opera's scandalous plot just made her uncomfortable, and she silently wished to be the star, to sing the role of countess. The song thankfully finished, and Christine was permitted to take a break while the ballet was rehearsed. Carlotta was also taking a rest, and she shoved past the younger girl with a haughty "Humph!" The prima donna hated the fact that she had to share the stage with Christine, the soprano who had stolen her gala night. But over the last rehearsals, the the two had actually established an unspoken agreement, due to their mutual loathing; it was to just leave the other alone. Carlotta was prone to a few cheats to the deal, and Christine silently accepted them, thinking her job could be a lot worse if the diva wished. She wandered over to an empty corner behind the huge scarlet curtains, grateful for the soft music that went with the ballet to soothe her aching head, and pushed aside the drapes and hid, as if she was a child. The soprano settled down with the hopes of sleeping when a large, thick piece of paper fluttered down from the rafters.

She looked up anxiously, then saw that the paper was actually a note. It was a creamy white shade, and the words were written in a complex, scrawly black font. "I should have heard an angel singing, not the voice of a great toad." She read aloud, and wanted to laugh. The Phantom's sense of humor was witty, if not a bit degrading to Carlotta, the "great toad". She fiddled with the note, and discovered it was an envelope. There was a clever gold seal hidden beneath the corner. Christine eagerly broke it, and opened the paper, and was first bombarded with a delightful smell, one that she recognized but could not name.

"It smells like him, and he smells like.....the night!" She whispered in self-discovery, remembering the heady, sweet scent she used to inhale as a little girl playing outside in the moonlight. Pulling the it closer so that she might smell more, smaller pieces of paper tumbled out and on to the polished floor. They were paintings, drawings, works of art that she only dreamed of creating. There were six, the smallest being the size of her two fists on top of one-another. The first showed a dark chapel and the back a little curly haired girl's head, her small hands raised high, and her joyful face partially shown as she raised it up into the air. Christine recognized it as herself when she had first heard the Angel of Music sing. The next showed a slightly older version of the same girl, the first signs of curves appearing on her body as she danced on stage with a group of ballerinas. There was a golden glow surrounding her that made the girl highly distinguishable from the many other dancers. _Is this how I appear to Erik?_ Christine wondered while noticing that the blond, curvy ballerina on the left and the grim dance mistress had similar, but dimmer plows. "_Meg and Mme Giry"_, Christine thought and giggled,for whatever reason,she found the glows that helped her recognize the figures delightful. Then she looked at the next drawing. The girl in the picture was all grown up, alone on the great stage,only her profile visible, but the theater was filled with a great audience. She was wearing a grand white dress, her curls shining with diamonds, her pale arms long and slim, her open full lips seeming to sing,_ "Think of Me.." _

The singer smiled fondly, then flipped to the next piece. It was done only in pencil, and showed a shadowy hall with a man in a black cape leading a girl in a revealing dressing gown. The man was carrying a torch, and in his other hand, was the the girl's. He was looking back on her, and she seemed to be enchanted with her surroundings. It was a sketchy, mysterious drawing, and Christine couldn't help but run her fingers over the little figures. The next was a painting, and Christine felt her skin heat up. The masked man was holding the girl, his hands tightly across on her body, the girl's head leaned on him, her curls spreading over his shoulder. Her eyes were closed dreamily, and the man's open mouth appeared to be singing, while the girl's parted lips seemed to beg for a kiss. _Did I just think that? _Christine thought in shock as she stared at the painting. The glow and majesty of the lair surrounding the figures was too much for Christine, and she quickly went on the the next image.

It was the most complex, to say the least. The top half of the piece showed Christine burying her face into a red rose's soft bloom, kneeling on the floor in front of the mirror in her dressing room. The real girl gasped at the accuracy of her drawn self. She recognized the dress the figure was wearing as the dress she had worn the previous day, marigold-colored with lace, and the ring that Erik had given her shone on her ring finger on her left hand. The Christine in the picture had tears running down her face, but a sad smile. On the bottom half of the painting, was Erik, his face also buried in a red rose, but he was standing regally on the shores of the lake before his lair. He was dressed in his usual black, and his cape billowed behind. The Angel's eyes also shone, but his face was expressionless. In his other hand was the picture Christine had drawn when they had been living together underneath the opera, it was of the sunny Swedish beach that Christine had grown up on,but she had added Erik into it, staring across the ocean. The Erik in the painting was looking down on the onto the silvery water of the lake, the masked side of his face lost in the rose's bud. The haunting, almost disturbing part of the beautiful painting that though Christine was right side up, the section with Erik in it was upside down. She shook her head in confusion, not understanding the painting, or it's meaning.

The last and smallest piece made Christine smile joyously,and her weary eyes lightened. It showed a small, dark cottage lite with an handful of candle stubs, a small fire in the little stone fireplace, and a long square window. The window sill was covered with glass bottles filled with sea glass, and the view showed the dim reflection of the moon on the ocean. Near the fireplace sat a brown-haired man with shining blue eyes, a violin resting on the floor by his feet, being held vertical by only one large hand. There was a little auburn haired girl perched on his lap, and he looked down on her kindly, his mouth open, as if telling a story. The little girl's eyes were wide with delight and wonder.

"Oh, father!" Christine whispered, looking down on the picture that perfectly summed up her time with the only family she had ever known. It was the greatest, most beloved gift anyone had ever given her. After Christine wiped a few wistful tears from her eyes, she began to wonder. How had Erik gotten the scene so well, when he only had Christine's few stories of her childhood, and the picture of her father at the shrine? She decided that she would never fully understand his genius, and simply looked up, saying "Thank you,thank you so much, my wondrous Angel." She knew that he would somehow hear her words of gratitude. The girl continued to stare at each of the pictures until her lids began to droop, and then she slept.

~~~ "Mlle Daae?" The frail composer asked the air. Meg looked around anxiously. Had her friend kidnapped by the Phantom again? She shifted in her tight shepherdess costume and wondered if she should go and look for the infamous lair. Meg Giry had always found adventure and darkness and mystery to the be the best things in life, besides dancing, and though she would never say it aloud, she wished that had been the target of the Phantom's obsession, so she could first-handedly experience the greatest mystery in the city of Paris. "Meg, where is your friend?" Meg's mother, the ballet instructor Marguerite, asked in a worried voice. Meg, though she seemed to be the sweetest ballerina in France, also was very clever, and as a little girl, had hid to see her mother pass off notes to a cloaked figure late at night. That was when she first began to be enthralled with the idea of the Phantom of The Opera. "Meg?" The woman said again, and Meg brought her thoughts from a dark, regal man to the image of her friend. "I am not sure, maman." Mme Giry nodded and walked over to another group of dancers. Then Carlotta entered the stage. "We should conclude rehearsal without the girl. I am here, and tat is wat is important!" She yelled, obviously hating the fact that the young beauty had once again taken the spotlight. But her efforts were wasted when Christine herself emerged onto the stage. "Ha,now you show up. Dis is why you are the mute, and I sing Countess! You must be on time!" The diva shrilled, but Christine didn't miss her relieved breath after she had appeared. _Probably so people would quit fussing over me_, She thought spitefully, then felt horrible, and threw herself into the part of lover fervently.

(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(**(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*(*

The long dress rehearsal finally ended. Christine gathered her paintings from their hiding spot and slipped on her dress, and hurried up to her room when she crashed into a well-dressed chest smelling of heavy cologne. She quickly backed up and felt her paintings and sighed with relief, then looked up to two bright blue eyes. "Raoul!" She cried happily, going back into his arms for a friendly embrace. "Little Lotte!" He answered, and hugged her tightly. "I was so worried." He whispered into her curls. "But now everything shall be well once again! You must be hungry after those grueling rehearsals. Shall we go to supper?" The young Vicomte carefully asked, making sure his request sounded like a question. Christine wasn't really hungry, but she remembered noticed that he asked sweetly, and realized that he had probably been waiting at her door for some time. And she recalled the last time he had asked her to eat with him, and how the events that followed had changed her life. "I would love to go to dinner with you, Raoul. Should I change?" She gestured to her simple white blouse and gray skirt. He shook his head kindly, and they beamed at each other. Even dressed humbly, Christine glowed to Raoul, and the two drank in the other's beauty. "Oh, I need to go drop this off. _I'll only be a minute_." Christine finally sang, and Raoul nodded and sang too, _"I'll be waiting at the door._" The soprano quickly hurried into her room, and was shocked as a ice cold feeling settled over her body. "I am not promised to anyone!There is nothing wrong with dinner with my friend or is he my sweetheart?" Christine told herself, then gently put her beloved gifts on her vanity table. She glanced in the mirror and quickly added a silver bow to her curls, and pinched her cheeks, then hurried out the door and down the stairs, into her love's arms.


	6. Pretty Words & Soft Kisses

This chapter was hard for me to write, seeing as I had to make Raoul a hero....stink'n fop!..Sorry if there is alot of mistakes, I did this all in one setting and didn't have time to review and fix and stuff, cause I'm going on vacation and won't have a computer, so I figured I should update.....enjoy the long chapter:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Il Muto Opening Night

"This is the last opera before we close for the season. Do not mess this up." Mme Giry firmly instructed her youngest ballerinas, but softened her voice and then said, "I know you won't." They smiled at her and she patted the smallest girl's hand then walked over to the lone girl sitting in the shadows. "Christine, all is well." She whispered, then hurried off with her rounds. Christine nodded to herself, then went onto the stage, smoothing down her maid rags and taking a deep breath.

The first ever performance of Il Muto went without a hitch. When it finished, the managers let out loud, yet still nervous laughs, the patron sighed triumphantly, and the auburn haired girl playing Serafimo looked up at the rafters thankfully. But she still worried, whispering, "A disaster...."

"Christine! I think this has to be one of my favorite operas yet!" Meg Giry laughed as she changed into a formal gown. "Meg, whats the occasion?" The dark haired girl asked in confusion, also changing into a nice dinner dress. "A new suitor. He's seems perfect; nice, rich, funny, young...and handsome!" Christine giggled with her friend, then pulled her curls up and off her neck and into an elegant bun. "I'm going to dinner with Raoul, do you think this looks okay?" She gestured to her voluminous forest green skirts and ivory blouse. She had a ring on her fourth finger on her right hand, a simple gold band with black etchings around the side. "Christine, you always look pretty. I'd have the ring fixed if you ever get a chance, though. Well, there he is! I must go! Have fun!" Meg gestured to the figure of a tall man in the distance, then hurried down to the grand foyer and waved, then disappeared from Christine's sight. The left behind girl looked down at the ring and turned it round her finger, so that a blooming rose was seen. "I'm afraid that I'll always be wearing a ring that looks like it needs to be fixed." She murmured to herself, then hurried down into the crowded foyer, shyly calling, "Raoul?"

A couple of quiet yells later, Raoul finally emerged, and kissed Christine on the cheek. She immediately blushed at the forward gesture and stammered a bashful 'hello' when he grabbed her hands and said, "Darling Lotte, don't be shy! You did wonderfully tonight, even though you weren't singing. You'll be the star diva again...." He pulled a small bouquet of pink roses and white daisies from behind his back and presented them to her with a flourish. "How lovely!" She exclaimed, and he smiled happily then pulled her towards the door and out to his carriage.

"Your really should try this, sweetheart." Raoul nudged Christine and gestured to his extravagant plate. Christine had been ecstatic when Raoul had told her the restaurant served foods from around the world, including Swedish dishes, and she had chosen a beloved, but simple food from her childhood. "No, Raoul, really, this is the best meal I've had in years." She beamed up at him and the vicomte truly felt like the happiest man in the world. They soon finished dining, and decided to enjoy the night. It was unseasonably warm. "Where do you want to go, Little Lotte? We can go anywhere!" The young man laughed gallantly. "I don't want to go just anywhere, I want to go to the park!" Christine teased, and they strolled into the park with interlocked arms, looking like the picture perfect example of sweethearts.

It was soon late, and Raoul felt compelled to take his love back to her home. They stood at the huge doors of the opera house, and Raoul suddenly felt shy again. He wanted nothing more to kiss Christine, but wasn't sure how she would react. Christine, meanwhile, felt happy and alive after her time with Raoul, and wondered why he was staring at her. "Something wrong, dear vicomte?" He shook his head quickly, then asked her, "Will you dine with me tomorrow night?" She nodded and offered a small grin, and Raoul gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Goodnight, my lovely Lotte."

"Goodnight." She called as he went down the steps and to his carriage. Christine hurried into the opera house and to her room, wondering if she was being courted by Raoul. She changed into her most comfortable nightgown and blew out the single lite candle on her vanity. She settled into her couch bed and shut her eyes. _"Have you forgotten your angel?"_ Mournful wisps of song woke Christine every time she was on the brink of sleeping, but she wasn't sure if it was her strangely guilty conscience or Erik. She finally got out of bed and sang, "_How could I forget my reason for song?" _There was silence, then, "You dined with him tonight." Christine felt that queer ice cold feeling settle over her again. _Is this the feeling of betrayal?_Christine thought to herself.

"Angel, Erik..." She managed to say softly. "You dined with him last night." His voice was a cold furious, a scary powerful angry that made Christine quiver and inch back toward her bed. "Do NOT dine with him tomorrow, Christine, else you shall have reasons for tears." She felt his presence leave, like an storm passing over, and she crawled into bed and shivered till sleep came.

After the second performance of Il Muto~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Some disaster!" Andre laughed with his fellow manager, then grabbed the nearest ballerina and said," Darling, let us have fun!"and pulled her out into the grand foyer. Christine Daae was standing near him, but missed the entire exchange. Her mind was elsewhere, specifically, below the opera house. "Sweetest, you haven't changed! Come on, hurry! I have a wonderful surprise for tonight, you'll love it!" Raoul De Chagny said excitedly, grabbing Christine's hands and smiling broadly. The girl was still dressed as Serafimo. "Raoul, I do not feel well. I cannot go to dinner with you. I am sorry." She sounded emotionless and rehearsed. "Are you sure? I had a great reservations and the surprise...Are you positive?" He sounded pathetically hopeful, but she still shook her head, without meeting his eyes. "Well, I'll escort you to your room then, so we can have some time together." Again she shook her head, saying, "I fear I'm not fit to be suitable company tonight. Perhaps we can eat together some other night. Go now, before the crowds leave." He looked down on her sadly and asked yet again, "Maybe I can fetch my doctor for you...or I can take my dinner with you...." He tried to hold her hand, but she turned, pretending not to see.

"Things have changed, Raoul..." She whispered, then looked back and waved before heading to her room for the night. When she entered the room, she quickly bolted the door and leaned against it, sliding down to meet the floor. "Raoul shall think me to be a wretched person...." Christine cried, wringing her hands.

"I do not think of you as wretched. The complete opposite, actually." A smooth low voice interrupted her crying, and she looked up to see Erik's tall form. "There are your tears...I fear I am the cause for them yet again.." He quickly crossed the room, and knelt next to her, wiping them away from her eyes. She flinched away at first, remembering the face beneath the mask. But then he pulled her up and into his arms and hummed with his beautiful voice, and Christine could only think of the angel she had known for nearly half her life. "You shall dine with me tonight." He stated, and before Christine could blink, he had worked the switch on the mirror and was leading her down to his home.

The girl was dazed at first, as they slowly walked down the many halls, but then she began to think, and she found that her thoughts disturbed her. _Why am I going to dine with the man that made me lie to Raoul? Why did I accept his comfort when he caused my pain?!_ But Christine knew that if she had the chance to go back and change how things worked out, that she probably wouldn't, and that scared her even more then the disfigured side of Erik's face. On top of all of that, she realized that she was still dressed as Serafimo from the opera. So in true diva fashion, Christine fainted.

Once again, Christine woke to the gentle chiming of a music box. She glanced at the little Persian monkey in confusion. The dreamlike state that had been over her the first time she had awoken in the swan bed was gone. After she got her bearings, the soubrette realized that she was slightly angry at being forced into coming down to Erik's lair, and was still dressed as a foppish man, yet she almost felt remorseful over fainting and missing the magical ride in the gondola. Christine pulled the bed's cord and the black lace canopy rose gracefully, then the girl lept out of bed. She was prepared to go to Erik and demand to be taken back to her room, where she would eat in solitude. But that was before she saw the dress hanging from the wardrobe.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, going over to the massive wardrobe and letting her fingers travel over the smooth gown. It was a deep navy blue silk, like the night sky. It was an unusual style, Christine remembered it being popular in the beginning of the century, with the waistline being right under the bust line. She wondered if Erik wanted her to wear it. She cautiously left her little cove, but the lair appeared empty. "Erik?" She asked the air. The singer decided to just wear the dress, so she pulled one of the hanging blankets down from the wall to provide privacy, and changed out of her Serafimo costume. The dress had long slender sleeves, and the bottom fanned out luxuriously. She struggled with the hundreds of tiny ivory buttons on the back, but figured she had them all. The sweeping neck line was extraordinarily low, so the modest girl hiked it up as far as it would go. "I wonder what else the magic wardrobe holds?" Christine giggled to herself and opened up the big doors.

She found a thin silvery ribbon edged in gold, and let her hair down from the ponytail she had to wear as Serafimo. She thought about pulling her hair back with the ribbon, but loved the feeling of her hair swinging freely against her bare back, so she tied the ribbon round her neck like a necklace. Her hair provided protection against the low round backing of the dress as well, because the buttons started below her shoulder blade. As a final touch, Christine reached into the pocket of the trousers she had been previously wearing, and slid the elegant rose ring unto her finger. She felt beautiful. She pushed the curtains up and wandered into the main area, looking for Erik. She had just began to open her mouth and call for him when she noticed a tall silhouette near the lake.

He was dressed in a splendid suit with a large swirling black cloak round his shoulders. The soprano was shocked. Erik was always well dressed, but his current attire was even more so, and Christine found the black on black strangely alluring, with his snow white mask boldly contrasting . She tip-toed over to him. His face was turned toward the misty lake,but Christine could tell he was lost in thought. "Erik?" She whispered anxiously, suddenly doubting about whether she should have put the dress on. But all her fears were erased when he turned toward her as if in a daze, and gave the slightest hint of a smile. His face cleared and he glanced at her with appreciation.

"Stunning, like always." He murmured, and offered his arm. She took it, but wondered, '_where are we going?'_ The angel led her to the gondola yet again, and Christine bit back a smile as he helped her into the long boat. He rowed silently, staring at Christine and his magnificent lake, while she looked on in wonder, her previous anger long forgotten. It was incredibly quiet, with the only noise being the lapping water around the boat, but Christine felt like she was listening to the most beautiful music. She really wanted to ask about their destination, but kept silent, knowing for once that her inquisitive voice would ruin the moment.

Then the boat was still, and the Phantom was looking down at her and gently helping her up and pulling her to a dark ledge. He was leading her into darkness. Christine nearly whimpered as they walked, because she could not see a thing, and the only comfort she had was Erik's cold hand guiding her along. She followed, holding her skirts in one hand, occasionally tripping, but having a growing feeling of excitement instead of fear. Her angel would never lead her into danger!

Then, suddenly, she was thrust into light. Her eyes teared up, and she pulled her hand from Erik's and covered her eyes, letting them slowly fall when she could see. "Oh!" Christine exclaimed, drinking in lush golden scenery. There were huge candelabras with fat white candles and statues of Greek gods holding little golden lamps. There was a tiny, trickling river around the little area, making it appear like an island. In the center, was a glass table held up by four rearing horses made up of a smooth stone. The table was laid with elegant dishes and two goblets of wine. Near the edges of the island, were little fountains with detailed figurines entwined with live roses and the gurgling water made sweet, soothing noises. Christine realized that the river probably connected to the lake somehow, but she was too dazed to care. The whole set-up was something out of her girlhood fantasies. She finally turned to Erik and gazed at him open mouthed, while he looked on proudly. She couldn't bring herself to make a sound, least it all turn out to be a dream.

Erik peered into Christine's brown eyes, as if trying to discern something from the amber depths. She stared back, taking strength from the golden garden to look into his ever changing blue gaze. Finally, he said, "I made this place for you. You inspire everything for me." He never broke eye contact, and Christine finally gave in and looked away, a flush evident on her neck. He gestured over to the table, and the soprano was helped into a chair and served food and wine. Erik just took a glass of drink for himself and watched Christine eat. Suddenly, she placed her gold fork on the table and stared at his empty plate.

"Eat, please. I have never seen you eat, Erik." He grimaced, or smiled, Christine couldn't really tell, and served himself a tiny portion of food. He ate gracefully and carefully, and Christine felt a funny feeling come over herself as she watched. It was almost sensual, the way he ate, and she gasped when he once again made eye contact. He chuckled after a bite and looked at Christine's nearly full plate, and she resumed eating fervently. They soon finished and he helped her out of her chair, and gave a small smile as she sighed contentedly. She happily strolled around the little island, exclaiming over the statue of Artemis, and the fountain with blood red roses. Christine sat on the little tile shore that met the river, and pulled her voluminous hair over her shoulder, weaving little braids in it absent-mindedly.

Erik joined her silently, and she jumped, then gave a sheepish giggle. He sat a little behind her, and said chidingly, "You missed a button." She fought the urge to jump again when she felt his cool fingers on her back, but they quickly left when the top button was rightfully clasped. "What are you thinking about?" He asked, taking her pale right hand and twisting the rose ring around her finger.

"...You" She answered honestly, staring out into the river, then the darkness that was beyond it. He looked away, then back at her, his gaze burning her into looking at him. "Why did you leave me for Raoul?" He whispered in a pained tone, and Christine's mouth popped open in shock. That was the last thing she was expecting. His cold hand gripped hers painfully, and she tried to squirm away. "Raoul is...." She fought with her panicking emotions, and tried to figure out why she loved being around Raoul. "Am I not enough?!" He shouted, and her hand was practically purple due to his squeezing. His ever changing moods terrified Christine, and she cried, "Your hurting me!" He dropped her long hand like it was an hot potato, and glared down at her. "Raoul does not scare me." She said spitefully, rubbing her hand, which still had dark imprints of Erik's fingers on it. He stopped breathing and turned away from her.

She immediately felt horrible, and her terror vanished like the wind after a huge storm. Her long, but little hand reached out for his, and she grasped it warmly, ignoring the freezing cold temperature of it,which almost made it feel burning hot. "Am I too wicked for you to love me?" Erik finally asked in a cold mocking tone, and turned and faced her. When she saw his dead eyes, her heart nearly stopped. She slowly crawled away, feeling immense pity for her fallen angel, but having her fears once again awakened. He looked as though he was not a mortal man, more like a spirit who lusted to watch others experience immense pain."Take me back! Please take me back!" She cried, crawling away from the shore and crossing her arms over herself in defense. "You want to go back? Back to your little Vicomte! You'll leave me once again!" He screamed, and lept out and grabbed Christine . She cried freely,feeling a terrible terror while trying to avoid his eyes. The beauty of the little island was lost as he shook her. "Stop it! Erik, stop it! Take me back." She yelled,but her voice dropped to a pitiful whisper at the end of her plea. He dropped her suddenly, and turned away and quickly headed out toward the dark passage of which they had come. "As you wish." He spat as the tips of his black cloak disappeared into the night.

Christine pushed herself off the ground wearily and followed,trying to make out his form, but she couldn't even see her own hand in front of her. Thought she hated to admit it, being alone in the night scared her, and she whimpered. She was determined not to call for Erik, though, and see his hateful, burning eyes, so she walked back into the island room and went to an especially bright corner where there were cushiony silk pillows stacked high. The girl arranged a little nest and sank down, her tears and fears draining her little energy. With a last wary look around the room, she closed her eyes and slept.

"There you are, awake at last! Come, it is nearly time for warm-ups!" A low but excited trill interrupted Christine from her gazing outside the window near her bed. She had awoken to find her face puffy and her hair wild, dressed in a midnight blue silk dinner gown, and draped in her bed. When she had last closed her eyes ,however, she had been in a fort of pillows many stories beneath the opera house. After she woke up for the first time, the girl had changed into her night gown, then crawled back into her bed sometime during the sunrise and napped. Her costume for the production was folded neatly and placed on her dresser, with a little red rose bud placed on top of the stack. "Good morning." Christine said amiably, her voice a little raw. "More like good afternoon, sleepy head. Did you have a busy night?" She giggled suggestively and gestured to the expensive dress laying on the floor. The little dancer didn't wait for an answer, though and chided, "You need to get dressed! I'll be waiting!" She skipped out of the room and shut the door. Christine went over to her basin and poured some water, and not even testing the temperature, plunged her face in. "Aiee!" She squealed, grabbing a clothe and drying of the water droplets quickly. The ice cold water had done its job. Feeling revived, she changed into her costume and hurried down to the theater.

Christine watched Raoul nod to the managers, then scurried behind the massive bed that served as the main prop in IL Muto. '_So he finally worked up the courage to sit in box five?' _Christine thought to herself and tightened her ponytail. _Oh, Raoul, your plan to rebel against the Phantom's orders shall not teach him a lesson, it shall only anger him..._But then the opera began and Christine's thoughts were only on being the best Serafimo she could be. Which meant not making faces at Carlotta like she had last time while they waited for their entrance.

"Serafimo, your disguise is perfect!" Carlotta cooed then sang, "_Why who can this be_?"Christine went along with the movements and got a laughs for her antics as a lover. While she acted, Christine managed to shoot smiles at Raoul, who seemed to be enjoying the comedy very much. The opera continued and the group sang, "_If he knew the truth,he'd never, ever go!_" A powerful voice cut short the silly song, and Christine whispered,"Its him",after she heard Erik's angry threats. "Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta hissed and nervously went off for her voice spray.

The remark didn't sting like it normally would as Christine looked up into the bright ceiling, praying she wouldn't see the shadow of a cloak over box five. She didn't and sighed, but she knew that she wouldn't feel relief until the opera was over. Carlotta, seasoned diva that she was, smiled for the audience and said for the opera to be continued. _"You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's ahhhbbbkk!"_ The singer's voice started her song confidently, but then let out a great croak at the long note. The audience gasped, and Christine knew that it wasn't a coincidence that the diva had lost her voice on this night. She resumed her song again, her face twitching nervously, and the girl felt sympathy for her fellow singer. Carlotta continued to croak and grunt on the high notes until she finally ran off the stage screaming for her mother. The audience laughed and laughed, not sure if the commotion was all a great joke.

Christine looked around in confusion as the stage crowded with dancers and the drunk scenery movers while the crowd continued to howl with amusement. Finally, the great scarlet curtains closed and veiled in the embarrassing group, and the mangers hurried on to the stage, eager to restore dignity to the Opera Populaire. Christine stood right behind the curtains, dazed and unsure where to go when she heard Firmin say, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize... Uh, the performance will continue in ten minutes time when the role of the countess will be played by Mlle Daae!" Suddenly, she was pulled from behind the curtains and presented on the stage, and applause and happy shouts filled her ears. She smiled shyly, then was hurried behind them once again and sent to Mme Giry to be dressed as her new role.

Christine stared into her huge golden-framed mirror. Mme Giry laced her corset tightly and she fidgeted, but didn't say a word. Her mind was filled with a million racing thoughts, and she somehow new that the Phantom was not done wreaking havoc on the opera house that night. Mme Giry finished her lacings and turned and presented Christine with a rose tied with a black ribbon. She held the rose away from her body and turned it round in her hands. Her eyes were haunted, but Me Giry watched silently and backed away, folding her hands. In the distance, Christine heard delighted laughter at the whimsical ballet that was entertaining the crowd till the opera resumed.

"AAHHHH!" Screams and terrified gasps came from where Christine had last heard laughter, and she hurried and grabbed a cloak and threw it over her underclothes and ran toward the stage. She never made it, but heard from the whispers of the dancers that Joseph Boquet was dead,killed by the opera's infamous phantom. Raoul ran toward her, and they quickly embraced in relief while he asked if she was alright. "Raoul! We're not safe here!" Christine cried, and pulled Raoul toward the many stairs that led to the opera house's ceiling. Her curls bounced wildly as she climbed the many stairs at a hurried run, followed by Raoul.

"Why have you brought me here?" He asked in confusion, his heart still racing from the sight of Boquet's hung body. Christine, whether it was from sheer terror or a subconscious way to calm herself down, sang her response. _"We can't go back there!" _He tugged on her red cloak, catching on to her calming method, sang,_ "We must return!" _Christine looked back at him, and answered, "_He'll kill you! His eyes will find us there! Those eyes that burn..."_ Once they finished climbing the stairs, Christine rushed across a storage unit, pushing past an old worker. _"And if he has to kill a thousand men, the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA WILL KILL AND KILL AGAIN!_" Raoul told her to not think that, and forget the ever-waking nightmare. But Christine was too far gone, and her scared eyes and angry mouth continued to sing, "_My God, who is this man?! He hunts to kill! I can't escape from him, I never will..." _She sang what she had always wondered and mounted another set of stairs. Raoul had finally tried to stop convincing her to forget when he realized his efforts were futile, and echoed her song while he ran to catch up, voicing his own questions._"Whose is this voice you hear..with every breath!"_

"_And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the opera is THERE inside my mind..." _

Their voices died out as they finally reached the roof of the opera. Christine felt relieved ,thinking that the highest part of the theater would be the least likely place for the Phantom to be, and that Raoul was safe for now. "_There is no Phantom of the opera..." _The Vicomte cooed as he tried to make eye contact with Christine. She ignored his statement and sang, "_Raoul, I've been there. To his world of un-ending night...to a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness...darkness..." _Her eyes stared down at the snow covered floor, and she realized that her hand still clutched the god-forsaken gift of a monster. But she could not bring herself to fling it over the roof. She slowly walked over to her friend, and looked into his disbelieving eyes. _"Raoul, I've seen him. Can I ever forget that sight?..Of a face so distorted deformed it was hardly a face in that darkness...darkness...."_ Raoul looked down on her with blue eyes full of pity and horror that she had to go through so much. Christine seemed lost to the world as she tenderly brought the rose to her face and in a different tone sang, "_But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound, and those nights there was music in mind!" _Raoul eye's widened as she walked away from him, and lifted her white face to the sky. Her tender voice almost seemed filled with...love as she sang, "_And with his music, my soul began to __soar!__" _And her voice soared on the last note, an angelic sound that echoed throughout the sky. _"and I heard as I never heard before...." _Raoul realized that he was quickly losing his Lotte to an invisible ghost, and while walking over to her, said, "What you heard was a dream and nothing more!" But she ignored him, and still looking at her rose, whispered, "_Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world...those pleading eyes which both threaten and adore..." _and she drifted away from her childhood sweetheart yet again.

Raoul knew that Christine responded best to song, and being quite a romantic himself, decided that he would just go with his instinct and sing her a song to bring her back to him. He decided that he might not ever have this chance again, and would sing what he had been wanting for days. The Vicomte slowly approached his love and laid his warm hands on her shoulders, hating the monster that made her terrified as he felt her shoulders shake with the battle to not let her tears fall. He gently turned her around to face him, and wiped away her few tears, whispering her name. He didn't understand why she suddenly flinched and bit her lip while looking away from him. Raoul pushed that away from his mind and sang, "_No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears! I'm here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you." _He had been taking singing lessons for the past couple of days and knew he had a sweet, nice voice and was pleased that his song came out reassuring and soft, just what Christine needed to know to not ever fear him. Raoul's thoughts were only on comforting and promising Christine wonderful things when he sang, "_Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I'm here, with you beside, you, to guard you and to guide you." _His eyes gave truth to his words and Christine looked into his light blue gaze gratefully, and thought of all the things she'd never have with Erik. With a shy smile smile, she let her heart sing, "_Say you'll love me every waking moment! Turn my head with talk of summer-time! Say you need me with you now and always, promise me that all you say is true...Thats all I ask of you." _and dropped the ill-fated rose without even realizing it.

Raoul sighed with relief since he now knew Christine actually shared his affections, and looked into her vulnerable brown eyes while pulling her into a loving hug. _"Let me be your shelter, let me be your light!! Your safe, no one will find you, your fears are far behind you!"_ They stared into each other's eyes, and Christine sang, _"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night_!" Raoul looked away when he heard her words.' Does she want to stay single?' He thought with confusion as she turned away from him, looking haunted yet again. But then she looked back and smiled, and added tenderly, "_And you, always beside me, to guard me and to hide me!" _The Vicomte was filled with love then, and gallantly sang, "_Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime! Let me lead you from your solitude!" _Raoul grabbed her cold hands and joyfully led her around the roof like it was a grand palace. Then he pulled he toward him and sang into her hair, "_Say you need me with you here beside, any where you go, let me go too!"_ Christine smiled as he tenderly breathed her name, and pulled his hands into her own while she happily answered, "_Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime! Say the word and I will follow you!" _

They faced each other and stared into twin lovesick eyes while singing, _"Share each day with me, each night each morning!"_ Then Christine was vulnerable yet again, and whispered, "Say you love me?" And Raoul answered how she hoped he would, and they joined in song again, singing, "_Love me, thats all I ask of you..."_ Her soft smile disappeared into Raoul's hand as he gently tipped her face up and kissed her. It was Christine's first kiss, and Raoul's most important kiss. Christine decided she loved Raoul and kissing as he joyfully twirled her in the air while their lips were still locked. They beamed and wrapped their arms round each other and kissed softly a couple more times before finishing their duet with huge smiles,_ "Any where you go, let me go too! Love me, thats all I ask of you..."_ Christine's face glowed, and she pulled her hand's from Raoul's warm shoulder and lip's as she regretfully said, "I must go! They'll wonder where I am..." Her voice still sounded joyful from their sweet promises and kisses,though. He looked down at her with awe as she pulled him toward the door, still too happy to not sing, "_Christine, I love you!"_

She giggled as he lightly kissed her and grabbed her hands, then excitedly whispered, "Order your fine horses! Be with them at the door!" Raoul opened the door for her and laughed, "And soon, you'll be beside me!" Christine lovingly sighed up at him and chirped, "You'll guard me and you'll hide me!", and they hurried down the stairs, hand in hand,so that Christine could finish the opera that brought them together.


	7. Threes Months of Peace?

"Loud applause has never sounded so good!" Christine laughed as she was helped out of her large dress. "And you deserved it." Mme Giry answered with a rare smile. The resumed performance of Il Muto had started off shaky, but Christine had shone through with her ethereal voice, and the rest of the cast seemed to have gained confidence after hearing her sing to make it a memorable show. "Can you believe the season is over! Time seems to fly!" Meg breezed into the dressing room, already changed into her normal dress. "I can't believe that I've been promoted to lead ballerina though. It will be weird to watch the entertainment at the yearly masquerade instead of preform in it." She added as Christine sighed with relief as she stepped out of the heavy skirt. They all chatted as if everything was normal while Christine washed off her white face powder, like that a man hadn't been hung while while an opera was being sung. "Christine, you're fairly glowing! Is there good news?" The little dancer asked curiously after she saw her friend's clean face.

"Yes. But I'm afraid I can't tell you yet. I need some time to figure it all out..." She said distractedly, and smiled at her private thoughts. "It probably has to do with Raoul!" Meg whispered loud enough to her mother that so that her friend could easily hear, and Christine blushed. Mme Giry had a different reaction, and took a sharp intake of breathe, then whispered. "Christine, little one, if your news does in fact have to do with Raoul, it might be best to keep it a secret when your at the opera house. Hmmm, many jealous dancers and such." Christine's happy grin faded as she realized that Mme Giry did not mean dancers, but an mad composer. "Good advice, Madame." She responded, then in a cheerier tone, chirped, "Well, I must go find Raoul! I shall see you all tomorrow."

"Lotte!" Raoul's smile could light a thousand candles it was so bright. "Raoul!" The singer answered, and he picked her up and twirled her in a happy circle. "I must go ring shopping!" He spoke into her ear, then let her down. Christine's doubts that she had dreamed up the rooftop song vanished, and she nestled her arm into his as they left the opera house. "Where are we going?" She asked curiously as he helped her into his carriage then settled himself in. "To have dinner with my family, I must reintroduce them to my fiancée!" The Vicomte explained happily, and tucked her cloak snugly around her shoulders. "Oh!" She gasped, and straightened her dress. "I'm not dressed up! I....I...oh.." Christine remembered his parents from his summer visits during her childhood. They were beautiful and elegant and spoke with accents and seemed like characters from a book. "They remember you, its not a big thing, darling." He comforted her, and it occurred to Christine that she hadn't told him of her plans. "Raoul, will you introduce me as your sweetheart, and not your fiancée? I'm not comfortable announcing that we are engaged yet." She lied smoothly, and it secretly scared her at how believable she sounded. He looked at her questioningly, but said, "If thats what you want, Little Lotte. I'll give you time." She smiled gratefully, and the rest of the long carriage ride was silent.

"Bonjour, foppy. Wow, this must be Christine! Welcome to our house!" Phillipe de Chagny greeted the couple at the doors of his family's mansion. Raoul grimaced at the nickname, and gave his little brother a "playful" shove which sent him nearly tumbling to the ground. "Hello." Christine said politely, and held back a giggle as she watched her future brother-in-law jump back up and smile cockily.

"Mlle Daae, my brother did not do you justice. Your even more beautiful then he said...." He kissed her hand, then regretfully gave her back to his brother. Phillipe was tall, with short sandy brown hair and sparkling gray-blue eyes. He resembled his brother greatly, though his voice was incredibly pleasing to the ear, even more so then Raoul's. "Christine, this is my EIGHTTEEN year old brother, Phillipe. Don't take whatever he says seriously, he is a terrible joker. But........He was right about your beauty.." Her fiancée explained after shooting his brother a warning glance, then leading her to a huge parlor.

"Hello, dears." A short but striking woman nodded her greeting at the trio standing at the door. Her hair was a buttery gold and her eyes were a dark, almost black, brown. Her skin was porcelain white. "Christine, this is my mother,Adelynn. Mother, this is Christine, the girl I have been telling you about." Adelynn nodded again and offered a hint of a smile, then resumed her book. Raoul led Christine into the room and she sat down on a obviously expensive couch, then he sat next to her. Then a tall, ruggedly handsome man with dark brown hair and bright gray eyes waltzed into the room. Raoul's smile brightened. "My father, Danton. This is Christine." Danton turned and bowed to her, and offered a mischievous grin. "Ah, the famous opera singer. I have heard only wonderful things about you." His voice was low and sounded like an older version's of Phillipe's. He sat down across from the couple and engaged Christine in a discussion about his travels around the world, including how he went to Sweden. The De Chagny men and Christine carried on polite conversation and jokes till a servant came in and announced it was time for dinner.

Christine straightened her dark brown skirt and ivory blouse, wishing she had chosen something more sophisticated. Adelynn De Changy was wearing a black skirt with a huge bustle and a snowy white and gold silk blouse, with her hair swept up. The singer's hair was down, with a little gold clip keeping the top part of her curls out of the way. The dinner was delicious and extravagant, but the privileged family treated it like it was nothing out of the ordinary. _'Is this a normal meal?'_ Christine thought to herself, and tried to keep from exclaiming aloud over the rich flavor. Dinner ended, and the men went into a separate room to smoke cigars. Raoul looked at Christine for permission to go, and she smiled nervously. _Here's my chance to become friends with his mother.._ She worried to herself and followed the elegant woman to a smaller, but still grand, parlor.

"You're quite charming, Christine." Adelynn purred as she sat down on a chaise lounge and reached for a glass of wine. "I can see why Raoul's smitten." Christine allowed herself a small smile and timidly sat on a couch across from her. Adelynn smiled at the singer, a grin that showed all her teeth. Christine found the gesture intimidating. "But that does not mean I am happy with this match. Your father was a poor violinist. Raoul's father is a Comte, and one of the most respected men in France. Raoul is a Vicomte, and your just an aspiring opera singer. Raoul can have anyone he wants, whether it be a princess or not. I don't understand why he chose you!" Her high little voice slowly filled with quiet anger, and Christine shivered. When she had met the Comtess as a child, the woman had doted on her. But now the woman seemed to hate her. "So I shall try to show Raoul the error of his ways. But without him knowing it, of course!" She laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world, and resumed reading her book while sipping the wine. Christine just stared into the fireplace and watched the flames. When footsteps sounded outside the door, Adelynn tossed her book into the corner and started talking eagerly about the latest shoe fashions, while getting up and sitting next to Christine. The younger girl was about to ask what in the world she was talking about when Raoul breezed in and smiled at his love. "I can see you two gals are getting along just fine.", and Christine realized just how devious her fiancée's mother was. "Yes, your mother is truly a delight." She stuttered as the rest of his family filled the room. "Christine, has Raoul told you about the time we went hunting last winter?" Phillipe asked with a wicked glint in his eye. "She wouldn't want to hear about that!" Raoul answered for her, and nervously pulled at his ascot. "Oh, yes, she would. Mlle Daae, it is quite the tale." and so Philippe launched into an amusing story about the mishaps they encountered while hunting.

" Did you have a good time, Little Lotte?" Raoul asked on the carriage ride back to the opera house many hours later. "Yes, your family is lovely." She answered honestly, but blocking Adellyn from the mental image she had of her future family in-law. "That's good. They all loved you." He answered fondly. _Except your mother..._Christine thought as she recalled the tiny snubs that the Comtess had given her all night. "But my brother seems to be getting too fond of you. Try not to encourage his behavior." Raoul added with a little shake of his head. "Your little brother is charming." She said in mild defense of friendly Phillipe. "Yes, and all the other ladies seem to think so too." Raoul said knowingly, and they continued to chat until he dropped her off at her room with a good night kiss.

Christine unlocked her door and let herself into the small room with a sigh. Her evening had been lovely, but already she wasn't sure if she would ever fit in to the high society life. Then she banished the silly thought from her head, thinking she was being melodramatic and changed straight into her nightgown and light a single candle. Just as she was about to get in bed, she glanced at her huge gilded mirror, and her sight vanished as she blacked out. "Oh God!" Christine cried and grabbed on to her vanity for support as her body slowly went back to normal. She lite more candles and scattered them around her room and covered all the mirrors, and made apromise to herself to only think of good things. Even after all of Raoul's sweet promises that night,and Christine's self-made promise, she dreamed of Joseph Bouquet.

"_What a party!"_ The whole chorus of the Opera Populaire sang and twirled. "No, no, this is not right!" M. Reyer shouted and fussed with his music stand while the dancers sighed and Mme Giry poked at the lazy younger ballerinas. Christine shook her head at the commotion and waved goodbye to Meg, who was seated offstage with an amused expression while watching her fellow dancers. The friends had made a habit of watching the rehearsals for the Masquerade ball each day, still giddy over the fact that they each had rose in positions to where they were a guest and not a hard-working performer for the well-known party. The main dance was still being worked on, and it seemed that no one had come up with the desired choreography,theme and song yet. "I think I might join them out of pity!" Meg mouthed to Christine, and the two giggled over the sound of the dancer's shoes on the stage.

Then Christine trotted away to the grand foyer and breezed out into the cool,cloudy air. She was naturally graceful, but too spacey and distracted to ever be a good ballerina, and was pleased to have the embarrassment of tripping and dancing off-time on stage done. Christine hummed a tune from La Traviata as she lept down and into the busy streets of Paris. She wrapped her red cloak tighter around her shoulders and smiled jovially into the overcast sky after walking around the busy city for a few minutes. It was late November and unusually chilly, but she couldn't help but occasionally twirl and laugh to no one in particular. It was a little over a week after Raoul proposed, and he was still as loving as ever, and she knew she loved him in return. Her new life consisted of long walks and dinner with Raoul ever night, while mornings were spent watching the ballet dancers and wandering around the park that was near the opera house. The thoughts that occupied her head where light and airy, and when a memory hit her, or she began to think of things other then relaxing walks and pretty dresses, the singer would dive into her way of life more fervently then before. She stepped into a little flower shop and quickly bought a bouquet of white tea roses. B_ut today is the one day that I can allow myself to remember._ Christine thought, and her cheery smile faded from her face as she turned off on a road that would led away from the bustling center of Paris where the theater was located. "October 23." She whispered and paced down a long dirt road lined with trees. Fields and forest she blazed pass, and after a hour, her destination was in sight. The cemetery. She clutched the bouquet and lifted her skirt with her other hand and sped down the main aisle of the grave yard. Her eyes and head ached as she tried to hold back all of her lonely and depressed thoughts since she had been doing so good by not thinking of anything upsetting for the last two weeks. But all her restraint was lost when the gray sky let loose small and chilling rain droplets, and she began to run to the biggest monument in the cemetery, the Daae mausoleum. Christine was drenched and crying by the time she collapsed on the steps, and she hugged the soggy bouquet weakly. "Six years! Six years you've been....been...dead!" She cried and felt the rain chill her bones. She continued to weep, then tried to wipe away her tears, but the rain just wet her over again and she let out a feeble laugh at the silly way she kept stubbornly wiping at her face. The girl picked herself up off the stairs and slowly pulled out a key and unlocked the gate that led inside the room. She silently walked in and light a candle with the matches that were hidden behind an intricate angel statue.

Her father's success as a violinist had allowed him to make all the preparations for a grand burial and tomb, but hadn't stopped him from getting tuberculosis a year after he purchased the grave site and big house that Christine had only lived in for nine months. She stood next to the stone coffin that held the remains of her father and gently laid the flowers on the engraved violin that decorated the top of the lid. "Father, I'm engaged." She whispered and stared into the shadows that the candle created, even though it was only late afternoon. The rainy sky made it appear much later then it actually was. "Do you remember Raoul? I'm sure you do. He is wonderful, I know you must be happy up there in Heaven." She smiled at the memory of her first glimpse of Raoul. "Do you remember my seventh birthday? My favorite present was the beautiful red scarf that I insisted that I had to where to the beach to play in. It was so windy and it blew into the sea, and I wept. But then the little boy that was walking with his nurse near us ran into the sea and rescued it and gave it back to me with a bow, and suddenly, we became the best of friends. So we spent nearly every day playing and, Lord, I remember the first time you told us about my soon-to-be favorite story. Little Lotte and the Angel of Music. And we memorized it and were the as happy as only children can be......Now, soon, I am going to marry him. Soon...Someday...I wish you were here!" She continued to speak into the silence and rung out her cloak to warm herself. The rain had soaked her clothes and for each word she spoke, she shivered twice. Her loose hair dripped onto the stone floor, and what felt like too soon, she whispered, "I love you, Daddy. October 23 shall always belong to you," And with that, she left the mausoleum and stepped back into the chilling rain. The long trek back took even longer as she battled mud and the sideways wind that nearly knocked her over. Finally, at dusk, she reached the opera house.

"Christine!" Meg shouted after she spotted her friend stumble into the brightly lite foyer. "What were you doing out there?Goodness, your soaked."The little dancer clucked and helped the singer into the back hall where her room was located. "We were supposed to meet for lunch, and when you never showed up, I had quite the scare!" She continued and unlocked her friend's door for her. "Its the 23." Christine answered quietly, and Meg understood the day's significance immediately and nodded sympathetically," You need to get out of these clothes. And your skin is ice cold. We must pray that you don't catch cold."

Christine did get sick. She was lost in feverish illusions as her thin body fought with the illness that people get from being out too long in winter rain. Christine was bedridden and in constant company of those who loved her; Raoul, Meg, Mme Giry, and from behind a covered mirror, Erik. But she was oblivious as her mind distorted memories and she called out random words and names for help and twisted around in bed.

Meg Giry paced in front of her best friend's room. The doctor had just been called for, and she heard him whisper to her mother through the closed door. She knew her friend was terribly sick, but was helpless. "How is she?!" Raoul de Changy burst into the hall and shook his long hair free of rain droplets. The weather seemed to match all of their moods. "I don't know. The doctor is still in there." Meg answered and faced her friend's sweetheart. He gave a frustrated sigh and joined Meg in her pacing. When the doctor finally left, the two barged into the singer's room and nearly crashed into Mme Giry. They were both crestfallen to see that Christine still laid limply in bed, her curls plastered to her face and her skin ashy. Her eyes were closed, and she occasionally whimpered and shouted, sometimes for Raoul and the Giry's, but mostly for a man called both Erik and Angel.

"Who is Erik, maman?" Meg asked one afternoon while Christine was in a oblivious sleep. She had been horribly ill for three days and still showed no sign of recovering. Mme Giry's lip's tightened and she glanced around quickly before replying," No one, ma cherie. When one is feverish,like Christine is now, they tend to make up people in their delusions." Meg nodded suspiciously, but when Raoul asked her about it later, she changed the subject.

Two weeks later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It is so bright...." A girl whispered and tried to pull herself into a sitting position from her bed. "Christine! You're back!" Two excited voices chimed in unison. Christine looked down and saw that she was covered in blankets, and held out her hand to see nearly translucent, skin. She naturally had a pale complexion, but there had always been a rosy glow to it. "So I have not just been dreaming." She said to herself and shivered. "Yes, you have been ill for a very long time. So much has happened!" Meg chirped and tucked the blanket around her friend. "What has happened? And could you please pull the curtains over?" Christine asked in a scratchy whisper. "Of course, darling." A male voice responded and the singer saw that her fiancée was also in the room. He hurried over to the one window and soon the room was dim and shadowy, and Christine immediately started to feel better.

"If you remember, the main dance for the masquerade ball couldn't be decided on. But, a couple days after you got sick, a full score to a song called 'Masquerade' showed up at the managers' desks', complete with a theme and dance routine. I peeked in on rehearsals for it, really, it will be a night none of us will forget!" Meg excitedly exclaimed, and the recovering girl offered a weak smile to show that she too was looking forward to the event. "What is the theme?" The brunette rasped, and Meg clapped her hands together. "Colors! Everyone is to where gold, black, white and silver! It shall be so elegant, with the regal gowns and glorious music." And suddenly, it clicked for Christine. Who had created everything for the dance. Erik had made it for his opera house. She wondered if the managers knew who had given them the supposedly "divine" music, but decided to go back to her policy before she got sick; to only be happy and think happy things. So she listened to her friends' stories and laughed at all of the right parts till she fell asleep.

"She is recovering so quickly!" Meg whispered happily. Her mother nodded in return and shut Christine's door. It had been six days since Christine had awoken from her feverish sleep, and she was making a remarkable recovery. Just that day, she had joyfully walked around the opera house and eaten two full meals. "Maybe she is driven by the excitement of dancing at the ball with her love?" Meg joked as they headed to the ballet dormitories. "Maybe." Mme Giry answered, as if she didn't know about the masked man slipping a potion into the little singer's drink every morning. But she knew that his potion would heal her, and it was helping her get better much quicker then if she just took the opera doctor's medicine.

"The sun feels so good!" Christine sighed as she tilted her face towards the weak light shining through the tree she sat under. Raoul smiled down fondly at his girl, and tucked her red scarf around her neck. "I never want to get sick again. Remind me not to walk around in the rain sometime," she laughed and poked at the Vicomte playfully. He poked her in return, but secretly was ecstatic to see Christine healthy and lively once again after nearly a month of being confined to her room and the opera's chapel. "You know, Mme Giry made me promise to feed you." The young Vicomte said quite seriously, then pulled out a picnic basket from behind the tree. "Oh! How lovely!" Christine squealed, and slowly ate an apple and a small sandwich, and finished with strawberries. Really, Raoul, where did you get these?" She curiously asked, and held up a perfect plump fruit to his face. He ate it, then said," Its a secret."

They finished their meal, and he helped her up and they strolled around the park till Christine became tired. He dropped her off at the opera house with the promise of a dinner with his family that very night. Before she had become ill, Christine had dined with the de Changys' nearly every night, but after since her sickness, she had mostly stayed in her room with a cup of soup as her dinner and her friend Meg as company. She walked into the opera house feeling quite carefree and was nearly ran over by the Monsieurs Firmin and Andre. "Mademoiselle Daae! Just the gal we were looking for!" They said in unison, and couldn't help but smirk at their matching purple vests. The two managers followed the latest fashion trends to a tee and then added their own personal touch that usually resulted in them being clothed in colors too bright with lots of silly accessories. "I am glad that you are feeling better." M. Andre said, then Firmin began to walk towards his office, and his fellow manager herded the young singer along as the business partners chatted gaily. They arrived at the office, and Christine looked around curiously.

"Andre, you rascal! We got so caught up talking about the weather that we didn't even tell Mlle Daae about our plans!" Firmin gasped. The two nodded at each other, then the shorter unlocked the office, hurried in, then produced a vividly colored flyer. "Viola!" He shrieked, and the other manager nodded proudly. "I don't understand, monsieurs." Christine said and cocked her head at the poster. It showed the Opera Populaire surrounded by music notes and flashed the words "The Most Popular and Loved Opera Songs and Ballets Preformed in One Performance!" Underneath was Christine's, Carlotta's, Piangi's and Meg's names in a flashy font.

"Oh, we forgot to tell her,"laughed the taller manager, and the shorter pushed her into a velvet chair inside the plush office. "Christine, dear, you well know that Il Muto closed early after that rather unfortunate incident with Joseph Boquet." Firmin stated disdainfully, and Christine shuddered at the memory of seeing his bloated body being carried away from the opera house after the conclusion of Il Muto. "And so we took the last month or so working on restoring the Populaire's name and preparing for a splendid masquerade to make the people forget about the disaster. Which turned out to be unnecessary. The people of Paris found the last performance of Il Muto to be like a grand and dramatic mystery... once they got over the shock. " He continued and thoughtfully twirled his mustache. "AND now everyone wants to come back to the place of great mystery and perhaps catch a glimpse of the notorious Phantom, Paris's very own opera ghost. So we just knew that the doors had to be reopened to the public before the ball. There will be a grand show consisting of two ballets and nine songs being sung from the most beloved operas that we have already preformed. This will happen a month before the masquerade, and the performances will be exclusive, with only three showings before we officially close for the season. This will give us the boost we need for the funds of the ball and for ticket sales to boom. It will be spectacular!" Andre turned and beamed at Firmin, and they both glowed in the light of their genius.

"It sounds nice. But where do I fit into this?" Christine asked timidly. She was unsure if they wanted her to sing. But the bigger problem to her was that she let herself think of spectacular music,which brought her tutor to mind, and that was a strict no-no in what was supposed to be her only happy, Raoul-based thoughts. "Yes, yes, we were getting to that. By the grace of God, we were able to appease La Carlotta into joining the cast once again." Firmin continued, and Andre muttered under his breathe, "Not by the grace of God, but by our pocket books and half the jewelry in France." Firmin glared at his friend, then went on saying, "She will sing five of the songs for the show. Now, listen here Christine, the most requested song for the show is from Hannibal! Your rendition of Think of Me! So you shall sing that, as well as the drinking song from La Traviata, that jewel song from Faust...what was the last one? Oh yes, and Dove Sono from The Marriage of Figaro. You will do wonderfully...that is, do you feel well enough to start the rehearsals in two days time? The first performance is in a week...I know its quite the rush, but surely you can handle it?" The managers turned their hopeful eyes toward her and smiled encouragingly.

"Yes, it sounds delightful," she responded shyly. Christine was thrilled to have so many songs for the exclusive performance and she knew she could handle it as long as there was no dancing. "After all, my illness didn't affect my throat!" The girl added happily, and the men grinned triumphantly and led her to her room all the while chatting about her costumes and the crowd that would watch her singing. As they bid her goodbye, Andre handed her a folder with the sheet music in it, and Christine entered her room and sat down to read. After she scanned the pieces, she felt like she was waiting for something, but she didn't know what. Then, suddenly, she knew what she was anticipating; her Angel teaching the songs to her. "I've already broken the rules." Christine muttered, and slowly uncovered the golden mirror. "Did I expect him to be waiting here?" She laughed to herself, when all she saw was her pale reflection. She walked back towards her vanity and pulled open the bottom drawer. Then she took off the folded shawl covered the contents of the drawer and tossed it to the other side of the room and pulled out a long, large silver box. The box had roses carved into the dull old silver and the interior was lined with creased velvet. The box was held her most precious possessions. Christine opened her door, looked out into the empty hall, and silently made her way to the chapel, box in hand.

She arrived and sat at the little window seat. Her large blue skirt made a comfortable cushion, and so she settle in and opened her box with reverence. The first object she pulled out was a little wooden violin toy. Then a long piece of aged lace from her mother's wedding dress. Then a child's-size red scarf. A tiny picture of the Swedish coast. A wishing rock found outside of her childhood home. Two frayed pink silk hair ribbons. A tiny doll with a blue eyes, a matching frock and golden hair. A glass figurine of a swan and a real feather from the white bird. A pearl necklace. A dried red rose. A page of sheet music. And multiple black silk ribbons. The last item she pulled out was dropped into the bottom of the box, which was literally covered in dried rose petals. The rose petals concealed the magical drawings that she had been given during rehearsals for Il Muto, and a shining ring. The ring made by an angel.

Christine sat surrounded by her treasures, a sweet smile on her face. She got up from her perch, put the lace on her head, and looked down on her left hand, pulling an imaginary ring unto her fourth finger, whispering, "I do." She stopped her silly pretending when the majestic tones of a violin cascaded down from the ceiling of the chapel. She forgot all about weddings and angels. The first contents of the box had brought back the little girl that had vanished at the Opera Populaire. "Father?" Hearing her vulnerable voice, Christine snapped back into reality. "Erik." The name rolled off her tongue like a caress, and Christine was once again shocked at her reaction. "Angel." His sweet voice echoed. Christine was at a loss for words. She wanted to tell him so much, but at the same time, she wanted to flee to the safety of Raoul's arms. So she said the first thing on her mind. "I've missed you." Once the words left her mouth, she realized how very true they rang. The whole month after Il Muto, she had a sharp, anxious urge at the back of her mind, which she dismissed as longing for her wedding and the chance to sing on stage again. But she now realized it was to hear her angel's voice once again.

"Have you?" He replied, his voice no longer sweet,now emotionless. Christine remembered the dinners with Raoul's family, walks in the park, and laughing with Meg. How she had striven to appear carefree and happy, like the world was a huge castle, and she the privileged queen. And she recalled the third performance of Il Muto, and how she sang a love song with Raoul after she had been scared out of her mind when Erik had killed a man. The same man that she now desperately wanted to see and hear and touch. So she knew, that even as she feared and hated him at times, that the control Raoul said Erik held over her existed. 'Or I care for him...' She thought in shock, and even in her confusion, realized that she hadn't answered the voice. Christine looked up at the ceiling while she walked back toward the window seat, her amber eyes filling with upset tears. 'What am I doing?' Her mind yelled as her actual voice answered, "I've missed you more than you can imagine. Please come back, dear Angel." The sound of the violin resumed and stayed with Christine as she tucked the treasures back into her box with a smile, and reached a crescendo when she put the rose ring on her middle finger. The lovely song kept her company as she walked back to her room and switched tunes as she did various things in her room. It even turned to an accompaniment when she began to sing the songs she would preform, and when she settled in for a nap, it became a sweet lullaby.

When she woke up, it was dark. The violin was just a sweet whisper, and Erik was somewhere humming along to the tune. Christine's sleepy eyes widened, and a delighted smile lite her face. She ran over to her mirror, and pressed her hands to the glass, positive that he was playing within the tunnel behind the mirror. "_Come to me,secret Angel!" _She joyfully, if not somewhat frustratedly sang, for the tune had switched to her beloved Angel of Music. "Prove your devotion." He whispered from the other side of the tunnel, and then the music stopped, and Christine suddenly felt very alone. She turned back toward the room, and saw a rose gently laid over the dresser. She lifted the bloom to her face and inhaled the heady scent before turning to glance at the little clock perched on a shelf. "Oh no!" It was ten minutes from when Raoul was supposed to pick her up for dinner with her future in-laws. And she suddenly understood what Erik's mysterious "prove your devotion" meant. Was she to go to dinner with Raoul and deny her Angel or obey Erik and tun Raoul away? The ring on her hand was cool and represented a tie to the Phantom. The chain round her neck bore a elegant gold cross that Raoul had given her. She was, in a way, promised to two people. What seemed like a simple decision; to go out with her sweetheart for dinner, would change her relationship with both men, whether they realized it or not. She dropped the rose immediately, feeling as if the smooth petals gave an unfair advantage to Erik in her decision, and tugged off both pieces of jewelery, before beginning to pace frantically. She had less then ten minutes to decide which man she would comply to. She walked back and forth for a couple of minutes before her mind was made. Christine quickly fixed her hair and sprayed perfume. She finally grabbed the victorious piece of jewelery from the floor and put it on, her voice already beginning a sweet song.


	8. Illusions and Dreams

"_Angel, please forgive me! There is no way for us, don't you see? I cannot stay here with you, though my heart aches and there is a false smile on my face. Know my soul only belongs to you. Great Angel, please do not forsake me!" _She started out to the tune of her Angel's song, then switched to just singing her words in one passionate pitch. Her loose curls bounced around in the air as she gave one last frantic look around the room before heading to the foyer.

"Lotte!" Raoul cried and jumped up from his seat at the doors of the opera house. "You look lovely…but tired, is everything all right?" He escorted her to his carriage and helped her in; chattering away after she said everything was well. The Vicomte continued to speak of nothing important, and Christine occasionally nodded, but mostly stared out the window. 'Have I made the right choice?' the singer silently asked herself and prayed that she had. Soon enough, they arrived at his mansion, and his endless babble ceased.

But her relief was shredded when she heard the loud laughs and compliments of his family, whom she hadn't seen since before her illness. Christine pasted on a false smile and chatted along with the De Changys. Excluding Raoul's mother, they were a merry bunch. Raoul's father always had a story to tell, and soon enough, Philippe, Raoul's little brother, had made a real smile appear on her face.

"Philippe, you ought to stop telling that story, your brother looks a little red in the face." The Comte De Chagny said dryly, and poured more wine for his beautiful wife. Christine couldn't help laughing a little at the brothers. Raoul was caring, sweet and charming, while Philippe was flirty, charismatic and debonair. When they were together, Christine was never bored. The younger brother regretfully ended his amusing tale, and Raoul shot a confident grin to anyone looking. The dinner ended after many courses, and the men went off to smoke cigars. "Come, Christine, let us go to the parlor." Adellyn said softly. The younger woman looked up in surprise. Her future mother in-law had sounded almost agreeable.

When the opera singer had first eaten at the De Changys', Adellyn had been quite horrible when they were alone, and given her slight snubs whenever the rest of the family was around. She had continued to do that for every visit, including this one. But her voice had suddenly become quite friendly to the girl, and she smiled becomingly when Christine finally ventured into the parlor. The Comtess poured some sherry for the two of them and gracefully sat down on her favorite lounge. Christine nervously looked at the dark liquid and slowly took a sip. She had never had sherry before. It was strong and yet, still faintly sweet. But she did not quite trust Adellyn, and cautiously said, "This is very good." The lounging woman smiled and said, "I'm glad you like it."

"Are we friends now?" Christine asked quietly and shyly, for she had wanted the Comtess to like her ever since she met her. Adellyn suddenly laughed shrilly and spat, "Of course not, you stupid girl!" The brunette gasped with hurt and her already large brown eyes widened in pain. "I am just in good spirits today. I have found the girl my darling Raoul shall marry, and of course, she is not you." Christine straightened as Adellyn rose from the chaise and poured more drink for herself and the younger singer. "She is of exceptional breeding, beauty and manners. I have seen girls like you before, sluts from poor families trying to raise their status by getting as many good men to fall in love with them at once. You think you have ensnared Raoul. I see you make eyes at Philippe as well! But, mark my words, you shall never mar the De Chagny name because Raoul will soon come to his senses and end this folly." She offered a cruel smile and smoothed a perfect gold curl. "Now, let us play cards." Her sudden mood swings startled Christine, who had still been wondering what a 'slut' was. Then she had remembered the girls at the opera house who disappeared at night with young men and came back later with gifts and money. Mme Giry had called them the same word while disciplining them, and Christine knew it must be a very bad insult.

"Why do you wish to play cards with me, the lowly slut?" Christine asked in a hard voice, and the Comtess laughed in amusement. "Oh, you are can be quite feisty when you want, hmm? I must say, your act of innocence was getting quite old to me. I want to play cards with you because I have run out of books to read and I am bored. So while we wait for the gentlemen to finish up, we can at least be entertained."

"I don't know any card games, I'm afraid you'll have to teach me one." Christine answered in a slow voice, liking the way the noble woman groaned. While Christine would enjoy making the rich lady aggravated, she felt bad for lying; as she did know many card games, and for acting deliberately stupid, which she had been taught was another form of deception.

"Goodnight, dearest." Raoul whispered and brushed a stray curl from Christine's face. "I hope you had fun tonight. I am afraid that I'll be going out of town for the next while. But I will be here for the opera show you told me about at dinner. I'll be in box five, look for me." He gave her a soft and quick kiss and swiftly returned to his waiting carriage. "Goodnight, dearest." Christine answered as the carriage disappeared into the night. She slowly walked into the opera house, and pondered about the confusing ways of Raoul De Chagny. Sometimes, he would only be the most caring and selfless of heroes, and others, he couldn't be bothered to wait for Christine to reply or even hear her opinion._ H__e is the best of men,and has never had to worry about the cost of his dinner...He is the best of men. _She quietly repeated to herself and walked into her dark room. The smell of roses was overpowering and magical. She saw the beloved shape of many flowers scattered across her furniture, and quickly walked over to the nearest bloom, which was on her dresser. She plucked it up, and the thin stem broke in her hands and left little wisps on her hands.

"Oh no!" Christine cried, and turned away from the decaying rose to lite her candles. Then she saw. All of the roses were dead. The stems were dark brown and crispy, the petals nearly black and dusty, and the ribbons wrapped around the frail stalks had faded to a dull gray with frayed ends. "No, no, no!" She pitifully kept repeating and glancing at all of the dead plants. Then the girl piled them into a stack and tossed them out the open windows, but the heavenly smell still remained. The sight of all the black, dying flowers had shaken something in Christine that she hadn't even known she had, and she got ready for bed that night with shaking fingers. She gave one last sorrowful look out her window and had turned back to face her room when all the candles blew out. Gasping, Christine slowly walked backwards toward her bed, and sank in fearfully. The dead roses had shown her maestro's anger, and now she felt like she would have to pay the price.

"Did you have a good time with your suitor? I know you did. You cannot bear to be away from him, can you? I understand how that feels,to have to be away from the one you love." His voice sounded strangely calm, but yet there was an undertone of anger and mocking disdain. Christine remained silent, and cowered atop the covers, her hands knotting into the silky fabric of the blanket that he had given her not so long ago."What is so irresistible about this Vicomte? At first, I assumed you were jealous of his hair, and were plotting on figuring out on how it he styled it." The Phantom laughed spitefully, then continued,"But then I saw the look in your amber eyes. Delighted and charmed, doting. This silly boy does nothing to earn your desired love, and yet you run to him like a child afraid of the dark. That is what you are. A child afraid of the dark...Perhaps it is his always sunny manner that draws you in. Perhaps it is your repulsion of me." Erik's voice slowly lost its power and became quiet and mournful, and Christine's eyes widened with surprised pity. Then he spoke with the power and conviction of a man who knows what he wants. "Christine. Soon you shall see past his charade. You will know that you can't live without darkness, it is what you crave. You love it, and that is why you fear it. I have given you the chance to join me, and to live with the darkness of my music, and you have denied me. When I ask again, you will not refuse me. You will not have a choice!" His last sentence ended in a passionate shout, then, a great wind blew through the room, and all was silent.

Though she was incredibly sleepy, she did not sleep soundly that night. Her mind kept on conjuring images of being forced to live alone and underground her whole life, and of Raoul forever calling her name and searching in the darkness. Christine would always run toward the sound of his voice, but would never find him. Then, there would be random flashes where she would see Raoul happily married to another girl, and Erik merging into the shadows, first trying to lead her away from her personal hell, the unending darkness, then disappearing. These dreams were disturbing to her for many reasons. The main being that Raoul glowed with a golden light, and Erik always faded into the black gloom after she glimpsed him in her dream. She woke up panting for breathe,her blankets twisted round her and the pillows all on the floor. But then she glimpsed out the window and was comforted with the sight of the weak sun rising over the horizon, and was finally able to sleep peacefully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~One Week Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You, little toad, don't try to take my limelight at da performance or any other. Do you get?" Carlotta was powdering her face in front of a large and sparkling mirror, and her threat was made less scary from her heavy accent. "Yes, Madame Diva." The younger soprano said sweetly, and the older smiled at her as she left. It was only after Christine had left her rival's dressing room when Carlotta shouted, "You do not call me diva!", and the brunette continued on her way, a slight smile on her face.

After Christine had been dressed and made up, she stood on the corner of the stage, where the audience could not see her, but she could view them. The managers had decided that the singers would wear one dress for the whole performance. The benefit to that was that Christine's dress was given lots of attention and detail, and she felt more beautiful than ever in it. The skirt was a magnificent dark green, and there was a train that fell to the floor in silky billows. The rest was made from a light golden silk, and the neckline was low and heart shaped, with nothing covering her arms but a bit of shimmering lace. Pearl drops fell from her ears, and her throat was bare, which just made it look all the more white and appealing. The costume managers had pinned the front of her curls up in intricate braids, and weaved strands of gold and pearls through them, and her reddish brown mane fell down her back and greatly contrasted with the pale gold of the top of her gown. She was even wearing make-up, gold shimmer covered her lids and cheeks, and a soft pink color coated her lips. Christine was thinking about whether Raoul would appreciate her appearance when Carlotta came on stage to sing the opening song. She was dressed in a rich purple gown that had fox fur and white silk for trimming, and her neck and head was covered in shining diamonds. Her gown was just as intricate and expensive as the diva's, but Christine was dressed with simple accessories and a coat of innocence while Carlotta was given leave to do the opposite.

It all went back to how the managers wanted the three exclusive performances they were doing to again gain the interest and awe of the wealthy citizens of Paris. And so they had two very different sopranos singing, one the famed Diva who seemed to own the Populaire's stage, and the other; a timid but already well-known star who was the object of the infamous Opera Ghost's desire. What could be a better publicity stunt then having two stars, two ballets, and the invisible presence of a ghost in one setting?

Carlotta finished her opening song and gave a wave to the distinguished audience, and the first ballet started. Christine was still in her perch on the side stage, but she was watching her fiancée with wide eyes, and not the dance. Raoul was in Erik's box, and he was leaning back while his eyes roved around the stage and in the ceiling. _What is he looking for? _She wondered to herself, and turned her attention to her friend Meg, who was expertly pirouetting around the stage, a serene smile on her face. Meg looked quite stunning, her gold hair swept up and her coveted figure exposed in the sheer and flowing white dress she was adorned in. _If only I could be so graceful. _Christine thought. She was still so glad her friend had became the lead ballerina. The singer knew Meg was the best dancer in Paris, and was smiling to herself about it when she took her entrance on the stage. She saw Raoul's eyes widen with pleasure at the sight of her, and noticed the rest of the audience do the that same when she opened her mouth and sang.

All the sorrow she had experienced her whole life faded away. Everything was lost to her except the sound of her voice, and that of the magical music that accompanied her. She could almost feel the music swirl around her, and couldn't help but sway a little with her song. Then an even greater feeling overtook Christine, and she raised her face and hands toward the ceiling and sang with more passion and feeling then she knew she possessed. She knew the Angel was watching, and that his anger must have faded the moment he saw her onstage.

The whole week she had been rehearsing Erik had ignored her, and Raoul had been gone. Meg and her mother were swamped with the two ballets, and the sixteen year old had felt terribly lonely. She had been left alone without her Angel before, but the terrible anguish she always felt during these times was lessened by the presence of others. So she had thrown herself into learning her three songs, and was now rewarded with the loving presence of the Angel of Music.

When Christine finished her first song, the crowd stood up on their feet and applauded with shouts and cheers. A few threw flowers unto the stage, and Christine spent a minute smiling to the delighted audience and picking up a white bloom before going back to her nook in the corner. Then Carlotta took the stage after a viscous glare to her rival, the beaming girl with the voice of a siren. While the Diva sang, the managers hurried over to Christine and babbled, "We've had a change of plans! You shall sing "Think of Me" as the finale. The audience loves you! We must say, you certainly have improved since rehearsals. Is there any special reasons of why you are glowing, little ingénue?" Christine found that she disliked it when people referred to themselves as "we", but shook her head and smiled, saying, "No, I simply...feel the music!" The managers nodded and hurried off to their next destination, after they had explained how the schedule had changed.

So Christine sat back and enjoyed watching the diva sing and her friend dance her solo, and basked in the secret presence of Erik. She was not afraid like before; because it felt like the loving angel of her childhood was watching her, and not the masked murderer who had emerged these last few months. Her second song was even lovelier than before, and the cheers louder and more flowers floated to the stage. Carlotta sang the rest of her songs, and Christine at last entered the stage to sing the grand finale. There was some wealthy audience members who had been to Christine's debut, and thought they knew how she would sound. But they were given a beautiful surprise when she opened her mouth and sang with a voice even purer than before. And at the end, Christine sang a new cadenza, so her voice brought forth rich low notes and soured to the heavens with her final "Me!"

Everyone jumped to their feet and applauded and shouted till their hands and throats hurt, and the stage was covered in flowers of every color and smell that Christine could imagine. But her face remained distant to those that knew her, and they pondered about the way she stared up at the ceiling. When the shower of blooms ended at last, a final flower wafted down to her feet. A red rose tied with a black ribbon. This at last brought forth the bright smile of the now celebrated singer, and she offered shy waves to the audience before heading off the stage.

The other two performances went just as well as the first, and by the end of the week, the Opera Populaire was the subject of everyone's conversation. Those who had wealthy enough to go to the luxe show raved about the beauty of the youngest singer, and talked about the general splendor they had seen. There was buzz on the gorgeous, new leading ballerina, and on the aging diva, who still was able to provide an entertaining show. The Masquerade that was coming up in two weeks was the next "it" occasion and everyone was fussing about their costumes, making sure it followed the theme of gold, black, silver and white, and telling their less fortunate friends about how the ball would be the party of the century.

"Christine!" Meg cried and twirled in her new white dress. "What do you think?" Christine pretended to think deeply, then laughed and beamed, "It's glorious! Meg, you shall be the most attractive angel in the history of angels!" She crossed her fingers after her last sentence, because an image of her elusive Angel with his snowy mask and dashing figure popped into her head. "Really, that is so pretty..." She touched the smooth layered silk of the bodice and then the fluffy feathers on the little wings.

"Thank you. I am just glad that the managers told us to spare no expense!" Meg laughed, then was helped out of her new gown. The two friends were at their final fitting at a high-end dress-maker's store, and had kept the identity of their costumes secret till the night before the party, which was that very day. Meg was ushered out of the room while Christine was laced into her dress, and once the ballerina got the word, she hurried into the changing room to see her friend. "Are you a rose? Regardless, you look heavenly!" She squealed, then narrowed her eyes with sudden curiosity. "Your dress is pink, so it's not following the theme. I don't understand..." Christine looked down at her lacy pink gown, with its off-the-shoulder sleeves, silk roses,l ow-cut neckline and train.

And she remembered the last performance she had sang last month, where after the shower of admirers' flowers, her Angel's signature rose floated down to her feet, bearing a small note, which said, "_Do not wear what he wants_." She had puzzled over the note for many nights, and understanding had only dawned when Raoul had suggested that they go to the masquerade dressed with a couple's theme, like Romeo and Juliet, or something similar. So she had politely refused, and sent him on his way for the rest of the day to work things out in her very confused mind. Her phantom had been ignoring her for the past month, his only attention the single rose after every performance. And since there had only been three shows, so she had just three roses and one very lonely soul. So desperate was she for his loving attention yet again, she complied to his demand and told Raoul that her costume was to be a surprise.

Which led back to how she was wearing a pink ball gown with a luxurious bustle of cream and pink roses for a party that had a theme involving very different colors. Christine still didn't understand Erik's demand; since she had figured out that it was he who had provided the theme, music and dance for the entertainment, but when she returned to her room later that night, she found a set of creamy leather gloves with delicate lacing up the sides that would go perfectly with her dress. After exclaiming over the pretty gloves, the young soprano headed to bed and slept deeply. She had avoided her curious friend's questions to the best of her extent, but after eating lunch and the long ride back to the opera house with Meg, Christine had been drained of all energy from lying so much.

The morning of the masquerade dawned bright and clear, and was almost warm, which was surprising, given that it was new year's. Christine woke late, feeling refreshed and excited, and ate a leisurely breakfast before heading back up to her room to prepare for the ball. It would begin at the early nightfall, due to the short days of winter. While she got out her dress, Christine thought back upon Christmas, which had been a very awkward affair. Usually, she stayed with the Girys, and returned to the opera house to find an especially exquisite rose or a song from her angel. This year, she had visited Raoul's family, who welcomed her with wide arms. Well, everyone except the spiteful Adellyn, who had glared at the girl all night. Christine remembered who she had longed to be at the Girys' warm house that night, instead of trying to fit in at her fianceé's home. Raoul had not even noticed his love's discomfort, and promised an even grander holiday the next year. _I suppose it won't be so bad once I'm his wife..._ she mused, and put on the necessary underthings for her costume. _The worst thing about that night was to return to the opera and find that my angel had ignored me, _she decided, then heard Meg say, "Christine! I'm here!" The singer pulled herself out of her musings and threw on her dressing gown over her fiery red underthings, which were necessary for creating the color effect of her rose-pink gown, and opened the door to her friend, who was also in a lacy dressing gown and holding the rest of her costume in her arms.The girls laughed at their silly appearances, and spent the rest of the day primping and preparing.

~~~~~~~~~Dusk~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Christine! You look beautiful!" Raoul De Chagny gasped and ran forward to take his love into his arms. Then he held her at arms length and carefully appraised her costume. "An apparition in pink...you have me stumped, darling...are you a goddess of love, perhaps?" His long golden hair was pulled back into an unfortunate ponytail, but other then that, Christine found her sweetheart's Russian solider costume to be quite dashing.

She playfully tapped his nose and said, "No, I am a pink rose!" He laughed, still looking at her exposed cleavage, and pulled her outside of the opera house. Most of of the guests had yet to arrive, and the sky still had a glimmer of dark pinks and blues to it, making a very lovely twilight. Employees of the Populaire were scurrying around the perimeter and lighting candles and sweeping, to ensure that the appearance of the grand theater was perfect. No one paid any attention to an excited Vicomte leading his girl to the top of the steps. "Christine, I proposed to you nearly three months ago, and yet you wear no ring." His voice was quite solemn, but Christine laughed gaily and took his hand up to her throat. She was wearing a very thin gold chain around her neck, with an elegant red rose ring nestled atop her breasts. "Okay, I see you wear a ring...were did you get this, the stone and engraved ribbon are extraordinary!" The rose had a little ruby in the center, and the curling gold leaves and tiny black ribbon looked quite lifelike. Christine instantly regretted showing Raoul the band, and gently took his hand off her neck and ring. She then put her own hands protectively over the jewel, and explained, "The ruby is just glass, the band is only gold plated. I got with Meg, to help make my costume easier to guess, understand? Rose ring, rose dress?" She took her hands down to her sides to show him the silk rose on her side, then brought them up to her curls,which had pink ribbons and tiny buds weaved into the intricate braids. He nodded quizzically, then said, "Oh never mind, we got off topic. I brought you out here to have this."

From within his black pocket, he brought out a little velvet box, and opened it, showing her a grand ring. It had a thick white-gold band and a huge, oval-shaped blue diamond, which was surrounded by smaller white diamonds. "Oh, Raoul, it's lovely!" She unfastened her necklace and slid the rose ring into a concealed pocket in her dress, then pulled her curls aside so that he could put his ring unto her chain and secure it. He had watched her silently the whole time, then said in a quiet whisper, "Christine, I thought that we would announce our engagement at the party tonight." Then the hurt Vicomte took her left hand and attempted to slip the ring on her finger. But she pulled away, and said, "No, sweet. I'm still not ready. Come, let us go inside, everyone is arriving. We can discuss this in private." The guests were now daintily stepping out of their carriages, and the two lovers looked up at the darkened sky in surprise. The sun had completely set on them, and fireworks were just starting to explode grandly into the air. Raoul let himself be led into the opera house and into a back passage near the great hall.

"Only you hold my heart." The young singer said simply, then took the ring from his hands and fastened the chain herself. He watched and didn't say a word for a few moments, then smiled and kissed her hand. "As long as I have you. I suppose the public can wait for the announcement." They shared a sweet smile of understanding, then Raoul commenced, "Let's join the party!" She nodded, then said, " Where is your mask, soldier?" Raoul asked her the same question as a response, and she pulled it from a clever string on the side of her dress. "I seem to have left mine in the cloakroom..." He whispered and twirled her ring round the chain, then drew her out of their hidden passage to a wider hall.

"The rule for me is to not wear my mask for most of this party. The managers want my face to be seen, and they are asking the same for all of the leading performers so we can be recognized. Quite silly, don't you think?", she asked and gave a little silly smile to him. "No, your face is too lovely to hide behind a mask!" Raoul answered and gave a polite bow to his date and continued to pull her nearer to the ball.

Christine couldn't help but delightedly whisper, "Look, your future bride!" She brought her hands up and felt the large stone. "Oh, but why is it secret?" Raoul then couldn't hold back. "Why are we still hiding it, Christine?" He turned her to face him, and gently held her gloved hands. She gave a small smile at his sweet gesture, and he seemed to take that as a permission to give her a kiss.

As he leaned his face towards her, Christine worriedly gasped, "No, Raoul, they'll see!" It was true, they were now in partial view of the party, standing at the end of the illuminated hall. "Let them see!" He cried, then in a softer voice, "It is an engagement, not a crime." She continued to stare up at his face with worried eyes and an expression very similar to the one she had worn on the roof three months ago, and so he charmingly murmured, "Christine, what are you afraid of?" Her face softened, and a light smile returned as she replied_,"_Let's not argue. You'll understand in time!_" _

Christine was amazed at the splendor she saw. The color theme had been followed to the tee, and everyone was wearing exquisite costumes of gold,black,white and silver. The effect was breathtaking, as people spun about in the light of thousands of gold candles. Christine had even spied some of the more attractive Populaire dancers who had been painted gold and given candelabras to be life-sized candle holders. She saw all her friends, the managers and even her nemesis, and smiled delightedly to all, and they all returned her grin; even Carlotta, though her smile was small to the younger diva. The festive air of the masquerade had taken control of all.

The soprano then returned her gaze to her dance partner, and saw his expression of great love. They continued to dance, and Christine kept her eyes to him, as magical music filled their ears. It was all surreal to the young singer. Her Vicomte twirled her around, and she felt her long skirts fan out behind her and unto the highly polished floor, though she never broke eye contact with Raoul to see the effect. He seemed to radiate love, and with the lilting music in the background, made Christine feel as giddy as the other dancing couples, though she hadn't had a sip of champagne, like they had. When the music reached a grand crescendo, Raoul spun Christine, then pulled her closer in his arms and they ceased their dance. He dropped his face to hers, and they shared a long and breathy kiss. The atmosphere was too charming, the music too powerful, and Raoul too loving for her to resist that sweet temptation. When they pulled apart, everyone had abandoned the center floor, where they were standing, and Christine turned her blushing face to the stairs.

The main entertainment for the night was arranged atop, and they all held a fan in each hand, their full voices proclaiming, "_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you!" _With each drum clash, the dancers would turn with their fans, and from Christine's viewpoint, she could almost imagine them being the drums. Gold confetti showered upon the graceful performers, and the couple shared a delighted smile before turning back to the stairs. _"Masquerade! Every face a different shade, masquerade, there's another mask behind you!"_

By now, even the wealthiest guest attending the ball couldn't help give a pleased grin, and those who normally worked at the Populaire (but weren't performing) were all singing along to the catchy tune and tapping their feet. Christine gave another excited laugh and swayed as the dancers finished, "_Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads...masquerade, stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you! Masquerade, grinning yellows, spinning reds. Masquerade, take your fill and let the spectacle astound yo-"_ But the crew gasped and never got to finish their song as all the lights suddenly dimmed and the showers of gold confetti increased and nearly blocked the stairs from Christine's view. When the shower ended, she saw the reason for the shocked silence.

The Phantom of the Opera stood poised atop the stairs. He was striking in his form-fitting suit of fiery red with details of gold and black, but more menacing, as he portrayed "Red Death". His mask was white with dark circles around the eyes and red streaks slashing across the snowy interior. Everyone first gathered closer to the stairs as he surveyed his ball, then they all quickly backed away as he began to descend downward. With his shoulders thrown back and his head held high, the ghost mockingly began to sing, _"Why so silent good messieurs? Did you think I had left you for good?" _His cloak trailed behind, looking like liquid fire to Christine. While all the drama unrolled,Christine had fixed her eyes upon the composer, and would look no where else. She felt a mixture of dread, fear and strange exhilaration. She did not even notice Raoul protectively pull her closer and glare at the masked ghost. Erik confidently strode down further and continued,_"Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera; here I bring the finished score. Don Juan Triumphant!" _In one fluid motion, he withdrew a leather folder and threw it on the steps, then unsheathed a shining sword from his side.

"_Fondest greetings to you all. A few instructions before rehearsals start." _He was nearly down the stairs as he twirled the blade in his hands and commenced with his insulting demands to the Opera Populaire performers. He would occasionally gesture to his victims with the lade and would smirk at their frightened and indignant faces. While he did this, Raoul glanced around the room, then gave Christine's shoulder a squeezed before running off. She paid him no heed, and continued to stare at the Phantom. He had just finished giving insults to the managers and had sheathed the dangerous sword while turning to her. _"As for our star, Miss Christine Daae." _

The young singer had quickly glanced at the ground when she heard her name, and cautiously brought her eyes up as the ghost gazed at all the bystanders while singing, _"No doubt she'll do her best, it's true, her voice is good, she knows, though should she wish to excel,she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher. Her teacher..."_ As he made his plea, his gloved hands rose into the air ad later gestured to himself, and his voice dropped as he descended more stairs to reach his singer.

Christine's wide eyes felt teary as she looked at her angel. She hadn't seen him for months, hadn't heard his voice since the beginning of the previous month, hadn't felt his touch since that ill-fated dinner he had forced her attend. The world faded as the two looked at each other, both sets of eyes begging for forgiveness and understanding. Christine felt an odd mix of pity and ill-foreboding at that moment, but it was over-shadowed by her queer desire for the unknown mystery of the Phantom and of the comforting love of her fatherly Angel. A faint and hopeful smile settled on Christine's face as she timidly began to approach Erik, and her breathing became as ragged as his. He met her halfway, and they stared into each other as the gap between them faded. Then his eyes traveled down her face and to her throat, and the open looks he had given her faded. His hand gently went over her breasts, then he maliciously tore off the thin necklace that held her secret engagement ring. She gasped as he spat, _"Your chains are still mine!"_

The tender moment forever ruined, he spoke in a passionate, primal voice, "You belong to me!" Then he left the startled and suddenly afraid girl and rain up to the center were the two staircases met. With a deadly twirl of his red cape, bursts of flame lept from the floor, and when they faded, the Phantom was gone. To add to Christine's fear, and the crowd's shocked excitement, Raoul, the respected and beloved Vicomte De Chagny, suddenly ran down the stairs and into the smoking hole, brandishing a sword.

"No!" Christine cried, but her plea fell to silent ears as the managers scurried to the top of the stairs and gave a hasty explanation that it had all been a part of the entertainment. The musicians began to play again, and champagne was passed out to everyone as the party started over. Christine stared the crowd with horror that they could believe such blatant lies, and was greatly relieved when Mme Giry came over to her and led her away from the once again festive party.

"Stay here, dear. Don't worry, he shall be fine." The aging ballerina handed her a glass of water and hurried down the darkened hall, her oriental dress silently waving behind her. Christine chugged the water and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Minutes seemed to go by, and Mme Giry hadn't returned. The singer nervously twisted her fingers and brought her hands up to where her engagement ring had been. "I only had it for about twenty minutes..." She mused to herself and was startled when Meg found her in little nook she had been hiding in. "Christine, are you alright? I looked for you after...ah..the ghost left, but you were nowhere to be found! And Raoul..." The kindly blond picked up her snowy skirts and tired to squeezed into the space next to her friend, but Christine held up a white hand and said, "Meg, I am fine. Just a little startled. Raoul shall be alright, too. Go back to the ball, I'm sure you left some poor heartbroken man out there, didn't you?"

Meg smiled mischievously and toyed with a puffy white feather attached to her bodice. "If you say all is well. Can I convince you to join me?" Christine shook her head with a soft smile and nearly shoved Meg out of the hall and back into the golden glow of the party. She heard Meg's low laugh at her friend's antics, then the lower chuckle of a gentlemen after he reclaimed his missing angel. The rose that was left behind gave a wistful, but still glad, smile at her friend's happiness, and was debating on what to do; turn into her room for the night, head out to the party, or conduct her own search for Raoul.

"Christine, Christine..." Her turmoil ceased when her father's voice called out to her from the darkened end of the hall. He continued to gently say her name till Christine took a timid step into the dark. "Come, little Lotte, don't be shy." The kind voice of Gustave Daae continued to persuade the girl until she was at the end of the walk, completely submerged in darkness. "Daddy?" She whispered into the hot air, and felt for the handle of the door that the hall had led her to. "Yes, princess, open the door." He urged, and the door popped open, leading her into even more darkness. The voice of the deceased violinist faded into nothing, and Christine was left alone in a foreign hall. "I am such a fool!", she hissed to herself and tried to discern which way lead back to the shining light of the party.

"Christine! Oh, my child, there you are!" The voice that followed was soft and relieved, in a high female pitch. "Follow me!" It was the voice of Christine's aunt, the kind woman who had died when she was four. "Auntie?" The girl asked suspiciously, but after a few moments of the tender woman speaking, Christine once again fell under the spell and followed the direction of the comforting voice. She was again at the end of the hall when her aunt left her. "Am I mad?" Christine asked herself when she felt the wall to feel another door. She opened it and was met with more pitch black. "I hear voices of the deceased, and I shouldn't, no matter how wonderful-" Her rambling ceased when yet another beloved voice urged her down the hall, " Christine! Here, walk to the sound of my voice!" It was Raoul! Christine gasped and picked up her skirts. At last, a voice from the living! "Raoul!" She cried, and nearly ran into the end of the last hall. Thankfully, her skirts brushed against it just in time, and she flung her hands out in front of herself. The air had steadily gotten cooler, and the door which Christine blindly tapped chilled her hands. "Raoul?" She repeated, and received no answer. It was as silent as the grave as Christine felt for the door nob and let herself in to the room. Instead of just meeting cold darkness, she saw a dim, flickering light in the distance.

"Come to me, Angel!" The shadows around the light spoke with the voice of the man she once knew as the Angel of Music. She stopped dead in her tracks and gazed fearfully at the tiny light in the distance. Understanding dawned upon the tricked girl. "You lured me down here with the voices of my loved ones!" The soprano turned her head back to the way she had came and saw only darkness. She looked back towards the faint light and hissed, "Now the only way I can go back is through you!" The light completely vanished from her sights, and she gasped in unrestrained terror. _What have I done? I have angered the only man who could take me out of here! _She thought and wrapped her arms round herself. It was so dark that Christine couldn't tell when she closed her eyes or opened them.

But when Erik spoke again, his voice was forgiving and almost chiding as he said, "Angel, I give you one more chance. Come to me." And Christine remembered the night when she had refused the Angel and had gone to dinner with Raoul. When she had returned after that unpleasant evening, the Phantom had said, "I will give you one last chance and you will not refuse me." So this was the final chance. Christine bit her lip and thought for a few moments. She was in the power of the man who had terrorized the whole opera house that night, the man who had just stolen her engagement ring! But he was capable of great kindness and understanding, and she also knew that she wouldn't be able to find her way back to the world of light by herself. All of this played a part when she answered, "Erik, help me."

The world seemed to pause for a moment, then a candle seemed to appear and sparked to life ten feet in front of Christine. Once she reached it, another lit ten feet away. And so she continued her way, being led by miraculously lighting candles and the faint sound of the Angel humming in the distance. Christine's coherent thoughts faded as she took on a dreamlike state and followed the light. It was almost like she was sleepwalking as her head craned forward to the magical voice and her hands reached for the candles that were always out of her reach.

When she was all but asleep and walking, the light went out with a great hiss. Christine was startled into an almost sane sense of mind, but the sweet fumes wafting from the distant candle made Christine feel dreamy yet again. The darkness did not scare her as it had before, and she stood patiently, waiting for the next candle to lite itself. Suddenly, a colorful light burned into Christine's now sensitive eyes. A great wall of stained glass stood in front of her. She could see the hundreds of flickering candles behind the thin glass, but her muddled mind could only take in the beauty of the majestic wall. It depicted a vast forest going from night to day. The left side showed stars and slumbering animals, and the right slowly faded into a clear morning, with a soft blue sky and golden sun. It was all greatly detailed, and the only thing that kept it from looking too realistic was the ever-changing colors of the glass before her. When she could speak, she breathed, "Where have you brought me?"

Standing in the dim shadow of the great wall, she did not see Erik approach her from behind. Suddenly, Christine felt cool hands along her waist, and she woke up enough to gasp and try to flinch away from the suddenly strong arms clasped around her. "Erik?" She asked and slightly turned her head. It was the Phantom, though he looked completely different then how she had ever seen him. On his face was a mask of dark, shining midnight blue, cut in the same style as the Red Death mask he had worn earlier that evening, which seemed like a lifetime ago to Christine. He released her, and she took in his strangely glorious outfit.

The clothes he wore seemed to be exactly the ones he had worn at the ball, but they were dark blue, not red. His cloak shimmered like the night sky, not like deadly flames. He gave an amused smile and gestured to Christine. She looked down at herself, and saw that her once pink gown now appeared the same midnight blue as Erik's clothes. Her white gloves shone silver, and the pink roses lining her sleeves looked white. Her eyes widened when the Angel stepped forward and pushed on a section of stained glass. It gave way, and Christine saw that it was yet another door. Only instead of having to venture in alone, like before, the Phantom reached behind and gently pulled her in with him.

The strange, sweet smell of the candles that had helped her earlier filled her nose, and she inhaled the heady scent as she took in her surroundings. It was the same little underground garden that Erik had taken her in before, on that fateful night when he had forbade her to eat with Raoul. But she could not remember any of that as she slowly looked at it's forbidden beauty. The wall of stained glass shone on her as she tried to settle on a stack of silken pillows. The garden area was much darker than it had been before, with only the light of the candles in front of the wall. All the other candelabras stood empty, and every thing was either bathed in shadows or in the dim, but colorful light of the glass. She again tried to get comfortable on the stack of pillows and rugs, but found that her skirt's bustle of roses would always get in the way. She laughed a little at her silliness, but grew silent when Erik approached her. Her ran a silver-gloved hand down her face and neck, tapped her collarbone and slowly moved down her shoulder till he held just her hand. Christine vaguely remembered earlier that evening,and of how she had been terrified of the masked genius. Now, she only felt awe at the surrounding beauty, and peace and calm happiness. Everything was veiled in blue to her dreamy eyes, and she turned her face from a distant fountain and back to the Phantom, who had been watching her carefully. She brought her other hand up, and trailed it down the side of his face and beyond, till it rested on his chest, and gave him a thoughtful look.

"Does this please you?" He asked, his hand still grasping hers, and her other hand still perched on his chest. "Everything pleases me..." She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, everything still seemed to be covered in moonlight, though somewhere in the back of her mind, she still knew that they were underground. Christine dropped one hand from his chest and pulled the other free of his grasp slowly. She looked longingly at the stack of pillows and rugs, then began to work at the hidden latches on the back of her skirt. Erik looked at her quizzically, but she just gave him a sleepy smile. When her mission was accomplished, she stood before him in a puffy red underskirt with lace lining, and a sheer cream material coating the top. "Christine!" he gasped in surprise as she stepped out of the outer skirt that had gathered at her feet, the rose bustles reaching her knees from the floor. _The underthings had been effected by the blue spell, as well_, Christine noticed, _as they shine silver and blue instead of the original pinks and reds_. Then she stretched like a cat and laid down on the stack of rugs. "Now I can relax," she sighed and arranged a pillow to her liking, looking rakish and charming and clad only in her underskirts. "My goddess!" Erik cried suddenly, and hurried off somewhere. Christine didn't mind being left alone. The shadows that played around her face were comforting and everything was so peaceful, so surreal.

When he returned, the Phantom carried the supplies necessary for painting. The singer blinked sleepily at the sight of the masked man twirling his shimmering midnight cape with a flourish while setting down the easel. "I shall paint you, "he explained, and Christine nodded, her eyes half closed. "Wait, one last thing." He came up to the lounging singer and slowly lifted her right hand up, and began to take off the leather and lace glove. When he finished with that hand, he gave each finger the softest kiss, then did the same for the left. Christine vaguely remembered feeling repulsion for Erik not many hours ago, but now his touch brought only pleasure and added to the feeling of peace she felt. Once he arranged her hands to his liking, he went to his easel and began to paint. _How lovely, that he is painting me._ She thought dreamily and breathed in the sweet scent of the candles near the stained glass before falling asleep.

"Christine! Darling!" Bright lights and loud voices woke Christine. She slowly opened her eyes to see the anxious face of Raoul De Chagny inches above her. "Wha-?" She began to ask, but he gently hushed her and gave her a glass of water. Christine realized that she was leaning in a chair, and that Raoul was holding her up. She was in a darkened hall just outside the grand foyer of the opera house. From what she could see of the bright area in the distance; people were still partying and drinking, though it was considerably less populated then when she had left. She was in the very same hall that Mme Giry had put her in after Raoul disappeared, chasing the Phantom of the Opera. The shocked singer cautiously felt her gown while noticing that her gloves were on, and saw that it was the rose costume, her heavy skirts intact, the rightful color restored from blue to soft pink. "It was all just a dream..." she muttered to herself, and felt a great sense of relief and loss.

"What was just a dream?" Meg appeared next to Raoul, her white angel's halo a little askew. Christine just shook her head a little and drank the water that Raoul offered. Mme Giry appeared next, and gravely said, "We have all had much excitement tonight. I think it would be best if Christine retired for her room now." Christine nodded weakly and accepted Raoul's help to stand.

She nodded goodnight to the ballet mistress and her daughter, then slowly walked toward her room with Raoul. "When did you return?," she finally asked, to end the silence. "A few minutes ago," he answered, then continued, "I have learned the past of the opera ghost. The kind Madame told me after she saved me from one of his traps. Then I returned to the masquerade, to find that you were missing. I sought out Meg, and she told me you were resting out in a hidden hall. That is were I found you, draped upon that chair most uncomfortably. I was quite worried." He smiled fondly as they reached her door. "Goodnight, Raoul." Christine sighed, and gave him a chaste kiss on the check. He leaned down and gave her one as well, and as he straightened up, and said, "You smell different, Lotte. You normally smell of roses. Now you smell even sweeter, of a new and foreign kind of smell that I find intoxicating." The Vicomte gave one last look towards his tired love, then returned to go say his goodbyes at the party.

Christine entered her room and groaned wearily. She began to change out of her gown, and caught of a whiff of her own scent. It was sweet, like the smell of the candles in her dream. She sniffed her skirts, and got another smell of the sweet scent, and it made her feel light-headed. "Oh my," she muttered, then continued to prepare for her much-needed slumber. When she was at last in her night gown, she carefully picked up the outer skirt and draped in its designated spot. After she did that, she headed back to her vanity, and saw that a piece of cloth had fallen upon the floor. It was a section of midnight blue silk, smelling strongly of the strangely sweet candles she had just dreamt about. "Was it really just a dream?"


	9. Little Lotte

The opera house was very quiet the day after the masquerade. Many of the employees enjoyed the day off, staying in their rooms and sleeping off the hangovers that were a given after any party. They also knew that the next day would be very busy, as the first day of rehearsals for a new opera. Christine also stayed in her room that day,and only left to eat and bathe. She spent the rest of the day sleeping, and when she couldn't sleep, she merely laid on her bed or sketched absent-mindedly in an old notebook. Her thoughts were simple and sleepy, and she did not allow herself to muse about the previous night once.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Meg let herself into her best friend's room quietly, seeing Christine draped over her tiny sofa bed, her hair mussed and snoring lightly. "This shall be so fun," The blond dancer giggled, then crouched behind the vanity before yelling, "Christine!," at the top of her lungs. The previously slumbering girl jumped about a foot in the air, then settled herself on the bed and looked around suspiciously. Meg revealed herself, and the tired singer laughed at her friend's antics easily enough. "Thank you for that lovely wake-up," she said while getting out of bed and starting to prepare for her day. "Maman sent me to check on you. You seem quite alright." Christine nodded to show that she was indeed fine, and the two girls chatted while she dressed. Once she was ready, they went down to the theater where the Phantom's Don Juan Triumphant was being sight-read.

Many hours later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dis is not art!" Carlotta shrilled passionately to the weary M. Reyer. "Signora, we have gone over this many times. Though you may not like the piece, please, try to do your best." The frail man gently soothed the diva, who hissed at the suggestion that she wasn't already doing her best. Christine smirked at them, then continued to fiddle with the thick stack of papers labeled, "Aminta." The music was at times was sensuous,rich and beautiful, but it also like no opera she had seen preformed before. At other instances, the music would seem like a crushing, greatly terrible noise that made the girl want to shout and cry at the same time. It was a work of genius.

Christine also recognized one of the songs, "The Point of No Return." The Phantom had her sing the unfinished version of the duet on the second day of her kidnapping. Just listening to the orchestra try to figure out the tune was hypnotizing to Christine. Though she did not agree with the racy words, and dreaded having to sing them with Piangi in the near future, she could listen to that particular tune all day and still crave more. She hadn't really heard the song yet, though, because it was apparently a very hard piece and nearly all the orchestra members were simply staring at their sheet music instead of playing it. The singer had to rely on her memory of Erik sitting at his organ to appease her longing to hear the music.

The entire day had been slow to Christine. Carlotta threw many tantrums, mostly about how small her part was, the musicians couldn't figure out their music, and all the dancers had made crude jokes about the ballet, if you could even call the racy dance a ballet. So she had spent much of the afternoon thinking about the night of the party,and still could not come up with a solution. The scrap of blue clothing seemed to prove it wasn't a dream; but then, why was her masquerade dress still pink? The most frustrating thing to the girl was the mystery of how her feelings and emotions had suddenly changed. She finally had the thought that it was something in the candles that had done the trick;with their intoxicating, too sweet scent. Christine remembered feeling light-headed and seeing everything with a sort of beautiful bluish-tint, not to mention feeling completely calm and peaceful. All the other times the Phantom had pulled her down to his cellars, she had felt a million emotions, none of them being calmly relaxed. After pondering about it all, the soprano realized that she was immensely frightened;and desperately wanted to tell someone about her personal ordeals.

_But who? _She thought, _Perhaps Meg, she is so understanding...but she also loves intrigue, and __with her investigating on those mysterious candles, she'll tell more people to get information..._ Then she looked to Mme Giry, who was sternly lecturing two teen-aged ballerinas. _She was once like a mother to me, so why have we become so distant? _As soon as Christine thought that, she realized how true it was. The ballet mistress once told her bedtime stories and took her shopping and to birthday dinners. But in the past year or so, the two didn't have the close bond of the past. Oh, Mme Giry was still there whenever Christine needed her, and she seemed to understand about the whole Phantom/Angel ordeal; maybe a little too well, but Christine for whatever reason, did not want to confide her fears to her. _Raoul is the only one, then..._She also didn't want to tell Raoul, but not for the same reasons as for the Madame. _If I tell him, he will know about all my problems..so much to burden him with, and we are not even married!_ Even with a cautious heart, she resolved that she would tell Raoul that very afternoon, when he picked her up for their weekly stroll in the park. The tedious first rehearsal finally ended, and Christine bundled up and hurried to the front of the opera house to wait for her savior.

~~~~~~~~~~The Park~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We need to talk, Raoul." Christine gravely decried while her fiancée led her around the park. It was around dusk, and the winter weather was bitingly cold. When Raoul had picked Christine up in his carriage from the opera house, he had suggested they go to his home, but the stubborn soprano had strangely insisted that they go on their walk. Raoul made the best of the situation, and was sporting a jaunty scarf around his neck and a cloaked Christine on his arm.

"Yes, Lotte. People normally chat when they stroll about the park!," he laughed while miming to pick a rose from the bush nearest them, though the bush was barren due to the frosty weather. Christine did not smile at his silliness, and she turned to look at him after she pushed the pinkish-red velvet hood off her face. "Raoul, I'm serious....I'm...I'm frightened." Her skin seemed to pale, and her eyes widened with desperate fear. Raoul immediately ended his charade, and brought her over to a secluded stone bench near a tall tree that somehow still had leaves, despite it being in the middle of winter.

She sat down distractedly on the bench, and the Vicomte joined her and pulled her hood back on over her cold head. She didn't seem to notice the chill. "Raoul, two nights ago..." Christine broke off and twisted her hands, playing with the fingers on her brown leather gloves. Raoul's teeth clenched, but he did his best to retain a calm and collected composure. He knew Christine needed gentle comforting, and that she finally was about to tell him about her experiences with the much hated Phantom of the Opera. He brought her closer to him and said softly, "What is it, sweetest?" She looked at him sadly, then answered, "Do you really want to know? The last time I tried to tell you, you ignored me, then we ended up singing a duet!" Raoul laughed gently, then answered, "I want to listen."

With Raoul's confirmation, Christine stopped fiddling with the gloves and cautiously looked around their secluded bench before whispering, "Two nights ago, the Phantom of the Opera came to the masquerade dressed as Red Death. He insulted the most important people, then his attention came to me, and he took my beautiful new ring before disappearing. Then you ran after him, while brandishing a sword, and left me. Mme Giry brought me to a chair, and I sat there, feeling dazed and confused. Then dear Meg came and tried to bring me back to the party, but I refused, and sat in the chair. But, then, to my surprise and astonishment, I heard my father's voice!" Her quiet voice portrayed all the shock she had felt at that moment nights before, but Raoul interrupted, "Christine, dear, I shall not interrupt again, but can you please speak up? No one is near, you needn't whisper. Sorry, please continue now."

She nodded, then continued in a normal voice, "His voice came from the end of the hall that I sat in. That part of the hall was not lite, but his voice guided me, and so I continued till I could barely make out the shape of the wall in front of me. There was a door, and I opened it, only to be left in complete darkness. I felt like a fool, and tried to return to the party when the voice of my long-dead aunt called to me. I couldn't help myself, again, I followed. She stopped talking the moment I felt another wall before. Raoul, it was so dark that I had to walk with my hands in front of me. Once I was alone in the dark again, I came to my senses and again tried to escape. It was so dark, and I had walked so far. I was desolate. But then, I heard your voice!" Raoul had been growing more agitated with the continuing of Christine's tale, but hid his unease and tried to make his attention unbiased.

"I was so relieved. I had been starting to doubt my sanity! And so I blindly followed your voice. As I felt the end of the wall, your voice left me! The air had gotten so cold, and I could tell I had walked very far. I felt for the door and let myself in. Instead of meeting more blackness, there was a very faint light in the distance and I had the most ethereal voice say, "Come to me, angel!" I realized that the Phantom had lured me down beneath the opera house, and I grew very mad. After I ranted, the single light in the distance blew out, and I was once again in the dark. I realized my mistake, and thought deeply for moments. When he spoke again, I asked him to led me away, and the candle relite itself. As I walked further on, more candles seemed to appear ahead of me, creating a light for me to follow. They gave off the most heavenly scent. And so I walked, following the lovely candles and listening to the sound of the Angel's mysterious voice humming in the distance. Strangely, all my fears seemed to evaporate, and I felt peace and nothing else. When I was nearly sleep-walking, the candles went out. Still, I felt so relaxed, the sweet smoke from the candle filling my nose.

"Then, there was suddenly light! A huge stained glass wall stood before me. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen; showing a seen to magical to be real. I stood before it, delighted and awed at such majesty. I whispered, "Where have you brought me?" and the Ghost emerged from the shadows and pulled me to him....He was the most amazing sight!" Raoul gasped at her treacherous words, but Christine continued on,not bothered, "His mask was so blue, everything was in the colors of the night! And when I looked at my clothes, they too were in those mystical shades of blue and silver!

After I got over my awe, he led me through the stained glass, which was really a door. We were at the most magical place, I had only been once before. I started to see everything in the colors of the night. It was so very queer, and every thing I felt was relaxed and pleased. He touched me, caressed me, and I was not repulsed or afraid."

"He touched you?! Christine!" Raoul's voice was shocked and indignant, but mostly disbelieving. "Why would you let that monster touch you? I know you had to trust him to get back to the surface, but why..." He shook his head sadly and pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders. He was immensely glad no one but them had bothered to walk in the park that freezing afternoon.

"Raoul, he was not always so...He has touched me before....I...Anyways, everything was too beautiful. I was seeing things in the wrong colors, and I just wanted to relax, to sleep. The sweet smell of the candles, and the faint light, everything was dreamy to me." Christine knew not to tell him about her rash behavior and off taking off her outer skirt and went on, "Over all, Raoul, I was not myself. I settled on to a stack of rugs and fell asleep. When I woke, I was back in the hall outside the grand foyer, the party still going on. I was convinced it was just a dream, for my cloths had returned to the proper color, and I had a raging headache. But when I retired to my room that night, a scrap of blue silk the fell to my feet. The piece of cloth was the same exact blue color that I had seen earlier that night, the color I had imagined my dress to be! It was all too much, and I just went to bed and spent the next day refusing to think about it. But today, I could not help but let my mind wander. I thought back to that night, and to all of the other nights when the Opera Ghost controlled me so.....He is always there, Raoul, like I told you on that night we sang upon the rooftop. Every where I hear his voice, and every time he calls, I fall under the spell. I tried so hard to pretend it wasn't so..Even now, I feel that he watches."

The young Vicomte stared at Christine with horrified eyes. The night on the roof, he had claimed that there was no Phantom of the Opera. He had soothed Christine with sweet words, but now she was past the point of that kind of comfort. He could not think of a solution to end her fears, so he put all his thoughts to her tale, and was shocked when he reached the conclusion; "Christine, he must have somehow drugged you! I think it was the scent of those candles. I remember the strange sweet you carried when I kissed you goodnight. And you said that you were yourself before the candles started guiding your way...It is the only thing that makes sense. That is something the monster would stoop to doing to win you."

Now it was Christine's turn to stare at her love with horrified eyes. She had opened mouth with shock, but remained silent and thought over the possibility. The magical colors she had seen, and the feeling of calm had all been an illusion induced by the smoke from tainted candles. The Phantom had tucked the piece of blue fabric in her skirt to make it seem like a fantasy come true, that she had really had her clothes change color, when really, she had just been hallucinating. It made sense, and her feeling of fear grew. "Raoul, what if he does it again? Just to breathing in the scent of the candle smoke completely changed me. I would follow his voice anywhere, and he knows....." She burst into tears and buried her face in his chest. Raoul comforted her,then whispered, "Shush, sweetheart. We are safe here, away from the opera house. I have the solution to your fear. I shall buy you a flat to live in until our marriage....Which that monster denied us the joy of telling the public. Everyone in society knows now that we are engaged, sweet. That is beside the point though, and you shall have the nicest little apartment, and you can just go to the Populaire preform, and live somewhere else. I was thinking, maybe somewhere near this park would do-"

"No, Raoul!" When her fiancée had brought up the idea, Christine experienced a great pull of fear at being separated from the opera. She wanted disappear from Erik's obsessive gaze , but she could not bear the thought at living away from her kingdom of music. "I can't leave the opera house, even to sleep!" He saw the way her face took on a new kind of terrified look, and said, "Okay, I see that you can't be taken away from there." Her face softened once again, and she pushed herself from him and turned her face to gaze off in the distance. The trees surrounding their bench were dead and piercing the sky with fierce branches, though the tree directly over them had leaves. She was breathing through her mouth, and her breath was made visible with chilly air. Raoul watched her, and became frustrated and angry, though not directly at her, and shouted, "Is there nothing I can do to save you from him, from yourself? Nothing?! Why can't you deny him? Why?!"

She turned back to face him again, and he saw that she had been crying. He felt evil for having taken out his anger on her, and said gently, "Please, can I just get a different room for you at the opera house. Out of that dressing room, maybe near the chapel. How does that sound?" She thought about it, then nodded, though in her mind, she thought the effort would be useless. "Raoul, there is something else I have been thinking. I should not like to preform in his opera. I know that it will not end well, I know it." He bit his lip then answered, "Christine, I think you should learn the part and go along with rehearsals like all in well. You don't have to actually preform the part,dear, but I think that the monster will react badly if you drop his vile opera completely." After he had said that, Christine gasped and claimed, "Raoul, no, Don Juan Triumphant is pure genius, a great and terrible piece of musical perfection. I just cannot be part of it."

They continued to talk the rest of the evening, leaving the park and dining at a private restaurant. Raoul dropped Christine off at her dressing room for the last time, and made his way to meeting with managers, to discuss Christine getting a new room. The soprano packed her few and beloved belonging and placed them by the door, and went to lay in her tiny sofa bed, with a beautiful voice crooning to her as she faded into sleep.

When she woke, it was midmorning. She saw that Raoul had slid a note under her door, and the girl hurried over and read.

"**Sweet Lotte,**

**I was not able to ensure you a room to yourself. I am sorry. But your dear friend Meg is willing to share her room with you. When she was promoted to lead dancer, she got a private room out of the dorms, and lucky for us, has two beds. It is also near the chapel, I know this shall please you. Meg told me that you are to transfer your belongings to your new room once you wake. **

**Also, my offer of getting you a flat away from the opera house still goes, if you wish. Just say the word.**

**All my love, Raoul"**

Christine smiled at her fiancé's formal words, then stuffed the envelope into the pocket of her plain dressing gown after taking out the simple key that had fallen from the letter. The luxuriant,sheer lace dressing gown she had worn on the night of her debut had been packed into a leather bag, with the rest of the cloths she couldn't part with. Christine had decided to leave most of her garments in her dressing room, just because it would make things easier for moving into Meg's room. So the dressing gown, her dark pink cloak, a night gown, a few shirt waists, two skirts and underthings filled her bag. Her other bag was filled with sheet music, a sketchbook and pencils, and the beloved silver box filled with all her keepsakes. She quickly donned a pretty dress of navy blue that had gold and white embroidery with roses on it, and then picked up her belongings and cast a final look at her room. The red flowered wallpaper, the huge covered gold mirror, the pillows and blankets Erik had given her that she decided to leave behind; all of it she committed to memory. Even though she would return to this very room before every performance, it would never be the same as when she had lived in it.

Christine quietly let herself into Meg's room. She saw that her friend wasn't there, but that a bed underneath a circular-shaped window had been made, and a small dresser had its drawers open invitingly. The wall were made of stone; a dark gray, and the bed's were out of black wrought iron and each had four thin posts. The other furniture was in shades of gray and black as well. But the room wasn't completely gloomy, Christine's bed had light blue drapes hanging from the posts, and Meg's bed had light purple drapes. The ballerina had put candles over the dresser, and underneath them, more purple clothe covered the furniture. There were jackets on the coat rack, so there was a sort-of lived in feeling to the room.

She hurried and unpacked her things, thinking of the rehearsal for Don Juan Triumphant later that day. The opera was set to premiere that Friday, which only three days away. She knew that the props makers, chorus and dancers had been working feverishly, and that Meg was practicing even now, which explained why she hadn't been in the room to welcome Christine. The seamstresses had also been churning out costumes at a remarkable rate, but they had it easier then the other employees. In the Phantom's score, he had left a note that said he would provide the costumes for the two leads; Don Juan and Aminta, a gypsy girl he seduces. He had also instructed that there was to be no dress rehearsal. So the cast tried on their costumes, preformed on the set and practiced, but they never did so all together, to obey the Opera Ghost's ridiculous demands.

Christine pondered over his demands as she headed down to the dim theater. She saw chorus and main singers standing in a podium, with Mme Giry keeping an eye on her dancers near them. She approached the stand, and M. Reyer greeted her with a sarcastic, "Welcome, Mlle Daae. I'm glad you could make it to the rehearsal of an opera in which you preform a lead." Christine ignored his snide remark, knowing that the normally kind director was just stressed, and opened her folder of sheet music, placing herself away from the music stand and the members of the chorus who had been given solos. Carlotta had parked herself on the first row of the bleacher, and Piangi stood next to her, and the rest of the row was empty.

M. Reyer turned his attention away from Christine, and back to Piangi, whom he had been scolding before Christine entered the picture. "Again, Monsieur. Remember, it is "Tangle", not "Tango or Tannnnggggllllleeeee." The portly tenor shook his head indignantly, and his lover glared at the frail music director. "_Dose who tangglleee wit Don Juan!"_ He sang, puffing up his chest proudly. Christine looked up from her part with dismay. She was still quite miserable to have to be singing many sensuous duets with the man who couldn't even pronounce the word "tangle." _But I shall drop out of this opera the night before premiere, and Carlotta shall have my part...._ She thought, for deep down, she had an ever-growing sense of unease about preforming her part, the girl Aminta. She was roused out of her thoughts when M. Reyer loudly sighed and said ," No, No! Tangle! It is pronounced tangle!"

Carlotta gasped at the brisk way the director had spoken to her lover, and spat, "His way make it sound like music! Much better than original way, I know!" Christine then gasped at the slight the diva had just given the Phantom, whose orchestrations were masterpieces. She opened her mouth to say so, but Mme Giry turned her face from her ballerinas in the corner and said, "Would you day that in front of the composer?" The elegant ballet instructor stared down at the aging diva and shook her head as the soprano replied, "He is not here. So I say, this music can not be called opera. It is cheap." The Madame continued to shake her head, and turned back to instructing the dancers.

"Let us continue with rehearsal, everyone. From where we left off." Reyer said, sounding quite tired, and the group, sans Christine , began to sing the tune from where Piangi left off. As the chorus faded off, Piangi began his solo and was rudely interrupted by three men strolling into the theater. Christine looked to see who caused the interruption, and saw the two mangers, overdressed like always, and behind them, her sweetheart Raoul. The taller of the two, Firmin, coughed then said, "We would just like to watch rehearsals, if that is okay with you." He had directed his comment towards Reyer, but Carlotta answered instead, hissing, "If you do not interrupt Ubaldo again!" The director nodded wearily, and they resumed singing while Christine silently greeted Raoul. Carlotta began her small part of gypsy hag, and sang with an strong, but emotionless voice. She was stopped by Reyer, instructed, and resumed to sing, changing nothing in her performance. When she was stopped yet again, she cried, "I sing the part the way it should be sung! It is only music when I sing it!" Christine opened her mouth with horror at the older soprano's words, her gesture noticed by Raoul, and Carlotta glared at her younger rival.

Then, while the cast glared at each other and at their sheet music, a low, and mocking voice drifted down unto their ears, saying, "It only sounds like music when you sing it, madame? I fear you are quite wrong. My music is merely too much for your paltry voice to handle, thus you shall always fail. And dear managers, I am glad you have made it to rehearsals. I trust that you shall get rid of that horrific third bassoon and perhaps also secure a trumpet player who has a sense of pitch?" The cast looked up at the ceiling with terrified faces, Carlotta gasped at her mistreatment, and Raoul pulled Christine protectively into his arms. Christine also stared at the ceiling, but her gaze soon roved around the entire dim theater. The Phantom could be anywhere, and she was frightened to hear his commanding voice so close. M. Reyer tried to dissolve the tension and said, "Piangi, now would be a good time to sing one of your solos. " The fat singer opened his mouth but was only able to get a few notes out before he was stopped with the sarcastic yet powerful voice saying,"It is pronounced 'tangle', monsieur. And you're quite flat. Please TRY to sing in pitch." Another shocked silence followed, and the voice continued, "And for our star, why have I not heard her voice? This is a rehearsal, if I am correct. Her pride will not let her return to me, and so she must be instructed here. Mademoiselle Daae, sing for me!" There were two gasps, one from Christine, who buried her face in Raoul's shoulder to block out her former teacher's voice, and the other from Carlotta.

"THIS IS ALL A PLOY TO HELP CHRISTINE!!!" All of the performers looked to the diva with surprise, even her lover Piangi, and Reyer shook his head, reassured the group that is was not to help the younger singer, then asked her to sing a main aria, "Aminta's Lament." Christine pushed away from Raoul's warm arms and began on the first few haunting notes. In the back of her mind, Christine heard the familiar voice of the Phantom urging her on, whispering his beloved angel to sing higher, and louder. She faltered, then bursting into a sob, and tearfully announced, "I can't sing this!" Raoul gave her a sympathetic look, then cast his gaze blatantly to the ceiling. She understood his gesture then slowly turned her ashamed face back to the group and emended, "I cannot sing this now. I shall watch rehearsal, but I won't sing today."

Reyer nodded as if he had expected her comment, and the other singers gave the troubled young soprano curious looks. Mme Giry came over to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder before returning to her ballet girls. Christine shrank away from Raoul and into a dim corner while Firmin said, "How about Don Juan, everyone? Perhaps you can get through one song." They all had forgotten about the presence of the mangers and patron, and so straightened and reopened their music folders, and M. Reyer walked over to his piano. Before he reached it, the keys magically began to play the tune, while no one was there. There was more shrieks and everyone inched away from the piano, but the cursed yet beautiful voice of the Opera Ghost remained silent. The song continued, and the director soon raised his hands and conducted the group while the invisible pianist continued on. The lot continued to cast nervous glances to the piano, but still sang, and Christine cowered to herself as the barbarous overture reached a crescendo. She felt like she couldn't take anymore, and with a final glance at the still-playing piano, slipped out from the theater and to the hall. Her room was close to the theater, in a central walkway near the backstage corner nearest to the chapel. The halls were all dark, and the day was overcast, so the little light let in from the high windows was dim and gray. It was silent outside the theater, enough so that Christine could still hear the performers rehearsing the garish songs from the Phantom's opera.

She pulled up her heavy skirts and steadily picked up her pace, till she was nearly running through the empty halls. Her mind still seemed to echo the Opera Ghost's taunts, and in a tormented, passionate voice, she sang, "_Beneath the opera house , I know he's there....He's with me on the stage, he's everywhere!" _The soprano reached her destination;her old dressing room, and swiftly unlocked the door. She threw herself into the feminine room and continued, "_And when my song takes flight, I always find, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind!" _Christine vaguely remembered how she had moved out of this room that very morning,with plans to not return till the opening night of Don Juan Triumphant. The thought quickly left her pretty head as she angrily ran to the huge mirror and uncovered it in one fierce motion. The clothe fell to the floor, and she faced the mirror to see only her reflection; curls wild, blue dress disheveled, eyes huge and mistrusting. The scared and angry girl began to paw at the frames of the mirror, looking for a latch to let her into the Phantom's world, when a voice began to call, "_Christine...Christine.." _ She looked around the empty room frantically, then cried, "Great deceiver, what do you want?" Christine backed away from the mirror suspiciously, and crossed her arms protectively around her shaking shoulders. "_Christine, I want your voice, and your love....they go together....come and stay with me, and we will sing forever and fill the each other's lives with music!" _She gave a shocked and horrified gasp at his tender answer, and stepped towards the door. "No! Oh God, no, never! You have drugged me, lied,killed! Leave me! Angel of death, never torment me again!" Her spiteful and angry rejection filled the room then faded to silence as she paused by the door. A few deathly still minutes went by, then quiet, but horribly mournful weeping filled her ears. She cast a final glance at the dressing room, then fled towards the chapel with tears streaming down her ashy face.

Great sobs wreaked her body as she sank by the picture of her father. She looked at the small replica of his calm young face, and reached into a tiny pocket on the side of her dress. Tears still coursed down her face as she pulled out the rose ring the Phantom had given her so long ago. The ring used to grace her finger, then her neck, then had been hidden in her box of treasures. But she had taken to hiding it in her skirts for the last couple of days, ignoring the searing guilt and constant fear she felt whenever it was on her person. Now she took the ring and placed it on one of the candle stands that surrounded her father's shrine. She steadied her breathing, and managed to cease the torrent of tears to see the dim chapel with clear eyes.

Her once magical angel had instilled it into her to sing whenever she felt strong emotion, and without even realizing it, she sang to the spirit of her father,"_May the light of this flickering candle illuminate this never-ceasing night the way your spirit illuminates my soul! ...Papa, can you hear me? Papa, can you see me? Papa, can you find me in thiiiss ninnniiiight? Papa, are you near me? Do you even hear me? Oh Papa, please, can you help me not be frightened!"_ Her angelic plea echoed from the high ceilings of the chapel, and she stared at the shrine that sat before her. When the echoes at last died out, her exhausted head sank against her chest, and she slept fitfully.

Christine woke to find Raoul's arms around her. She was propped against him in the window seat in the chapel. The dim light that had filtered in through the stained glass window was gone, and her face was bathed in shadow from the candles that Raoul must have lit when he joined her. She subtly turned her head to better see his hands from peeking eyes. He was not aware that she was awake yet, and was turning the rose ring around in his fingers, the soft light from the candles catching in the rich red of the ruby in the center of the bloom. One hand traced the dainty black ribbon that curled around the band, and his other hand protectively went to Christine's still limp form. He tightened his arms around her, and she felt him stiffen as his hands angrily squeezed the marvelous ring. She in turn straightened, and turned her sleepy face towards him to show that she was awake. "Christine!," he gasped, and the ring disappeared within his hands. "What time is it?" She pulled out of his arms completely, and scooted against the other wall of the seat. Away from Raoul, she was cold, the winter air had seeped into the chapel, but she wanted to clearly see his guilty face. She remembered running to the chapel after she had horribly rejected the Phantom, and giving a pitiful plea to her father before falling into a deep sleep. She was still as fearful of Erik as ever, but she was also feeling a strange and overpowering longing to retrieve his ring from Raoul.

He finally answered, "It must be around seven. I noticed you were missing at two, and could not find you anywhere at the opera house. When I tried to look in the chapel, the doors where locked. I was so afraid, I thought the monster had taken you once again, after everything we've been through! I left the opera at four, and looked around at our park and everywhere else we like to go. I returned here at six, and still, you were nowhere! The managers gave me keys to all the rooms, and but the chapel would still not open. I again called your name, but met only silence. After I returned the keys to the managers, I asked for their permission to break down the door when I heard your voice calling. I again went down here, and found the doors unlocked, with you curled up on the floor, sleeping like a babe. I tried to rouse you to no avail, and so settled you unto the window seat to wait till you awakened." During his tale, he had skillfully hidden the ring in a crack on the sill of the window, but Christine noticed.

And she only had to look out the darkened window to know that his tale was true, so she answered, "Raoul, I cannot explain the locked doors of the chapel. But I can tell you what happened after I fled from that ill-fated rehearsal. As I ran down the empty halls, I heard the perfect voice of the ghost call to me. It drove me mad! I flew to my dressing room and tried to break into my mirror, which is the portal to his home, so I could confront him. I do not know what I was thinking, he cannot be defeated. But while I feverishly worked away at the mirror, his voice intercepted me yet again! He sang to me, asking that I come and live with him forever! I denied him in the most horrible way and ran to the chapel, the sound of his crying at my back. I shall never forget the sound! I dried my tears, then prayed to my father. Then I fell into a deep sleep...." Her beautiful voice dropped into a troubled whisper, and Raoul grasped her hands. "It will be alright now, dearest Lotte. His voice cannot bind you to the world of darkness. I'm here, I'll always be here." She smiled weakly in return, and the frantic urge to retrieve her rose ring faded as his warmth filled the small window seat. "Tell me a story about Little Lotte, Raoul." The Vicomte with the long, flowing gold hair smiled as a fond memory overtook him, and he faithfully recited, "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair had the reddish glow of soft candlelight, and her soul was as clear and golden as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved when the Angel of Mu-.....Let me tell another story, Christine." While he told the story,he had been brought back to their childhood, when he had been a young boy infatuated with the sight of his own sweet Little Lotte, who had golden-brown eyes and reddish hair. And then he had grown up and reclaimed his sweetheart, just to find that she had been visited by the Angel of Music, just like in the story.

Her eyes had clouded over when he had broke of the telling of the story, but she understood his refusal to finish the tale that praised the Angel of Music. But she also really just wished to hear about her favorite character and so insisted, "Tell me more about Little Lotte, my heart." He smiled at her rare term of endearment, and so said, "Little Lotte let her mind wander. She thought-I am grown up! I must make some important decisions! And so she wondered- am I fonder of riddles or frocks or dancing?" Christine gave a pleased laugh at Raoul's silly intro to the story. She immediately answered, "Why, Lotte is fondest of riddles, of course!" He squeezed her hand, then replied, "Lotte then asked, which do I love more- snow, horses or my fiancée?" His questions weren't just random, they all had to do with a parlor game that the two of them had been fond of when they were children; since it was all about their favorite Little Lotte. The speaker would ask the group what Little Lotte was fondest of; he would give three things, and the rest of the people would have to figure out what she loved best. The rule was that Lotte loved anything with two of the same letters together out of the set, and as children, Raoul and Christine had figured it out the second time they played the game with her father. So Christine said, "Lotte loves her fiancée most." The two e's in "fiancée" had guaranteed her answer, but he also seemed relieved to hear her reply so simply and firmly. They continued their game for hours, giving more silly and light-hearted answers as time went on. They asked each other questions, and reveled in their sweet love like the way a child revels in the sun after being cooped up indoors after a rainy day.

The time quickly passed till Christine could not stop yawning. While they had played their game, Raoul had tugged his love close to him again, till she was resting comfortably on his chest. Yet deep in his heart, his fine-breeding told him his actions were much too forward, the way he had kissed Christine, and held her numerable times, but he could not make himself stop...and he also knew that he had already broken all the rules by just being engaged to her; a chorus girl, no matter how sweet and beautiful. He was doing the exact opposite of what his friends did when they funded an opera, they went to find mistresses...And he had found his future wife, even though when he had originally came to the Opera Populaire, he had been looking for a lovely center of art and maybe some side fun...But then he had seen the Christine of his childhood, and he wanted to protect her and love her, vetoing the chance to sow his wild oats once and for all...Sometimes, when he stared into Christine's beautiful, haunted eyes and heard her angelic voice pleading to the Angel when she thought she was alone, he almost felt regret....But all those treacherous thoughts left his head when he looked down to her sleepy, trusting eyes, and he blurted out the set of questions that he had always wanted to know the answer to. "What does Little Lotte love best; her loving fiancée, her songs or the visits from the Angel of Music?"

The peaceful feeling that the chapel had taken on faded as Christine slowly sat up from Raoul's chest and faced the dark window. She remained silent, her thoughts racing, and her pale face showing the hurt she felt. The young singer had thought her fiancée understood her love for him, but also the way she could not resist Erik's voice, even though he now seemed to be more demon that Angel. The obvious choice to the question was,"fiancée", as it had the double e's, and that she should love him most, but Christine could not bring herself to say it. She instead answered, "Raoul, I am tired of these games. I should like to retire to my room now." He looked at her with shocked eyes, then after accessing her serious expression, offered her his arm and dropped her off just outside of her new room with a very formal, "Goodnight."

As he rode home to his mansion, his mind raced with the thought that Christine did not love him like he loved her. As Christine readied herself for bed, her mind raced with the thought that she had horribly rejected two beloved men that night.


	10. Journey to the Cemetry

Short, I know...

"_Turning from true beauty...." _Christine woke up with a scream caught in her throat. Her dreams had been filled with the haunting,crying voice of the Opera Ghost singing that phrase over and over again, till she was driven mad. It was a day after she and Raoul had played the ill-fated Little Lotte game. The day before, she had just gone to rehearsals and actually participated, and nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Yet when she had retired to the room she shared with Meg, she had found Raoul outside her door, reading a book. When she had questioned him about his location, he had told her he sensed something was amiss, and would spend the night in his current location.

So when the troubled singer awoke when the light of dawn was trying to peak through thick gray clouds, she immediately felt reassured to know her savior's presence was outside her door. Yet when she thought about her dream, not even the presence of Raoul could comfort her. In fact, Christine felt repelled. She drew herself up from her bed, and wrapped a blanket around her thin night gown to ward off the winter chill, and spirited out of her room. She passed by the slumbering Raoul, and felt an inexplicable sadness when she quickly gazed at his worn face before rushing onward to the opera's stables. She knew where she needed to go. When she had at reached her destination, Christine's eyes sought out the driver she would need, and she nodded her greeting as he murmured, "Where to, mademoiselle?"

"To the cemetery." The girl whispered to the hung-over stable hand. She pressed a small bag of coins in his fat hands, her wages from the last week, and he weighed the purse before sleepily nodding then heading off in the direction of a phaeton. Christine barely stayed to see him accept her offer, then rushed to the costume department. She could not risk going back up to her room to dress, for then she would surely wake Meg or Raoul.

The dim costume room was silent as the grave when Christine entered. Her white hands quickly skimmed through the every-day dress section till she found a dress that looked like it would fit her thin frame. It was black velvet, and when she put it on, it fit perfectly, though it also had a very low neckline. Christine figured that the dress itself would not be warm enough, so also put on a midnight blue silk cloak that she had always fancied. She found a transparent black scarf and tucked it around her hair before turning back to the door. There was a vase of withering red roses that she could not take her eyes off of, and despite a strong ill-forbearing feeling, she also took the bouquet. When she at last went out to the stable again, the stable hand had already hitched up horses to the phaeton, and was patiently waiting by the doors. Christine pulled herself into the leather seat, then said, "To my father's grave, please." The stooped over driver nodded, and the horses set off a swift pace, much faster than the expected speed. Christine did not notice though. She had stopped thinking of realistic things as soon as she had told the familiar driver the expected location. She had visited her father's grave so many times over the years that she only told the stable-hand her destination out of habit, not necessity.

As they raced through empty roads and forests, the wind blew Christine's veil till it covered part of her face. She did not feel it, nor did she feel the cold winter air or the slight caress of early morning mist. Her mind conjured up images from her dream, and also of a night months ago, back when the days were warm and her mind innocent, when the masked Phantom had led her down to his home.

So her thoughts began to sing, _"In sleep he sang to me..._" She silently marveled at how different the tune sounded in her mind, sung just an octave higher, it sounded so vulnerable. As she stared out at the desolate landscape, Christine continued, "_In dreams he came, that voice which calls to me and speaks my name..." _Her mind quit singing, and she felt like she could almost really hear the sound of the Phantom playing the organ, to his own haunting tune. Then she thought of how she had denied him two night before, and how the bitter sound of his tears had haunted her dreams. Then she arrived at the cemetery.


	11. Choices

Christine weakly stumbled out of the phaeton. She glanced around the empty cemetery, her gaze settling on the many snow-covered statues ahead of her. The icy dry air had brought tears to her brown eyes, and she absently wiped them away with the back of one cold hand. The singer slowly walked forward, and words from her childhood immediately came to mind when she saw the frosty carving of an angel on someone's grave. "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing." She whispered, remembering the dying bouquet of roses in her hand. She brought them to her face, but they didn't have a scent. "Her father promised her he'd send her the Angel of Music..." The girl laughed at the irony at the simple words, then repeated, "Her father promised her...." Her voice grew cold at his failed promise, and she at last whispered, "Her father promised her." She suddenly wanted to nothing more than to just talk to her father. To hear his simple, kind words and be reassured like a little girl. And like so many times when she had troubles, she sang.

"_You were once my one companion, you were all that mattered....You were once my friend and father, then my world was shattered."_ She used the tune that the Phantom had played so many months ago, when she had stayed with him after her debut. It was wistful and sweet, and nothing sounded more right to her at that moment in the snowy graveyard. She continued singing,pouring her heart out, letting all of her fears and sorrows echo around her. Once her throat felt like ice was being poured down it, she stopped walking and singing and surveyed the area around her. Gray sky, light snow covering every surface, the cold veiled faces of statues glaring down on her. In the distance, church bells rang out. She gave a soft laugh and whispered, "Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental. They seem for you the wrong companions, you once were warm and gentle."

A chilling wind blew through and her thin cloak billowed around her. She shivered, and could not stop herself from running nearer to her father's mausoleum in the distance. Anger that had been building in her the last few months finally came out, and she sang, nearly screaming, "_Too many years fighting back tears! Why can't the past just die?!" _She stopped, about ten feet in front of the violist's grave, and threw down the bouquet she had been so faithfully holding.

The words she next sang were directed to herself, and served as a prayer to her father. As she ran, a true and scary thought had entered her head. She knew that if she could let go of the memory of her father, she could let go of her strange,over-powering pull towards the Phantom. "_No more memories, no more silent tears! No more gazing across the wasted years...."_ Her anger had faded as she had walked closer to the mausoleum. She turned back and gently picked up the roses she had previously thrown. The soprano slowly walked forward again. As Christine stood on the first step of the tomb, she only felt biting regrets and a searing cold sorrow. It over-whelmed her tired body as she stumbled up a few more steps, then cried. "Help me say goodbye.." Her first plea to say goodbye had been to her father, then she repeated, "Please, help me say good-bye!" She had addressed her father to help her be immune to the Opera Ghost.

With her own voice still echoing around, she sank down on the steps. Her curly head slumped forward, and she cried into the bouquet of roses, lost in misery. The softest bits of cold snow fell on the top of her head, and trailed down her face like tears. Then the most, gentle angelic voice called out to her._ "Wandering Child; so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance..." _ She looked up, startled yet excited. The last time she had heard that achingly beautiful voice, she had rejected him in the most horrible of ways. Her heart racing, she thought, Will I just be deceived again by the false Angel? I just wished to forget about him! But why does my heart race so? Why do I long for him to return to me? Which disguise will the deceiver take?

Torn and dazed, she managed to finally answer, "_ Angel or Father, Friend or Phantom? Who is it there, staring?" _

She cautiously raised her head from the bouquet and gazed around in a skeptical sort of awe as he answered, "_Have you forgotten your angel?" _She vehemently shook her head. His ethereal voice was making Christine feel joyous yet sleepy. It was the feeling of the spell he always put on her when he sang. She knew that she was falling in far too deep, but still wanted him to be there with her. "_Angel, oh speak, what endless longings echo in this whisper!" _

"_Too long you've wandered in winter, far from my far-reaching gaze!" _His voice had grown even more lovely, and had also gained some power. Then, to Christine's amazement, a warm, rich light had begun to shine behind the mausoleum's wrought-iron door's. She rose slowly, and voiced her last coherent thoughts. _"Wildly my mind beats against you...Yet the soul obeys!" _And the two began to sing together, their fantastic voices blending in one timeless duet. The dazed soprano had risen once she had sang her first words, and slowly began ascending towards the entrance to the mausoleum. The light had only grown stronger and warmer as she had walked closer, and the doors had also slowly began to open. When she sang the words she had once had nightmares with, "_Turning from true beauty," _The light began to glow about her and heat her cold skin. Christine felt as if she had never been happier, and ecstatically raised her arms out to the voice. She was lost to the magic of his godly voice. Then he began to call, " Come to your Angel of Music," with a low and persuasive tone. Christine needed no further encouragement, and began to walk forward once again, her arms slowly falling to her sides, and her lids lowering. His voice came from the inside of the mausoleum, and in her state, she actually believed that her father might also be inside to greet her, as well as the protecting Angel of Music.

But then there was a terrible cry of; **"Christine, wait!"** Raoul was charging into the cemetery astride a huge white horse, clad only in his light underclothes. She sleepily blinked at him when he continued to yell, "This man, this thing, is not your father!!" She turned back to her father's grave, at last able to think. She was about to retort, "Of course he's not my father!", when she heard a mighty roar and saw a huge,swirling black form descended from the mausoleum roof. "Raoul!" She manage to call in fright as the black shadow ran towards her fiancee, a deadly sword already gleaming ahead of him. Raoul had already dismounted, and pulled out a sword. The two furious men began to engage in a power play that could only end in tragedy.

Christine watched in horror as they fought. The Phantom was aggressive and terrifying in his rage, and the young Vicomte had a hard time defending against his constant thrusts. The young soprano stood helplessly at the steps to the mausoleum, and the men, oblivious in their hate-induced state, continued to fight on sacred graves. In shock, she stopped seeing the fight, and instead pictured a great stage. The Phantom was singing with his flawless voice, but was unmasked and beautiful. From the side of the stage Christine then joined him, and they sang together. When Christine's part finished, she went out to the audience and into Raoul's waiting arms, while the Phantom smiled fondly at them, then returned to his crowd of admirers.

A horrible, pain-fulled screech pulled the girl out of her sick fantasy. Raoul's arm was bleeding, the bright red a contrast to his snowy shirt and the gray skies. The Phantom only mockingly laughed at the wounded Vicomte. Then Raoul, spurred by the wrenching pain in his arm and the thought of his love, began to attack the Opera Ghost with a strength he hadn't known he possessed, and finally managed to disarm his opponent. He kicked the Phantom to the icy ground and raised his sword.

"No, Raoul!" Christine screamed and took an involuntary step towards the men. "No, not like this." She continued in a more subdued tone after Raoul lowered his sword. The younger man ignored the burning pain in his arm and mounted the horse, pulling Christine to safety up with him. As they rode away, Christine turned and looked back at her fallen Angel. Though they were far apart, she could still see the hatred in his eyes, and her hands limply let go of the crushed rose petals she had grasped so tightly during the heated fight. They fell behind in the snow, looking like drops of blood.

Once the shaken couple returned to the opera house, Christine fled from Raoul. As she ran, she turned back towards the stable once, and saw her love's desolate face, but continued her escape. She went to her room, and found it empty. Greatly relieved, she sank down on the bed, and let all of her cold tears fall. Then she stripped herself of the damp black gown and cloak, and stood, wrapped in just a blanket. She wanted to have nothing to do with the morning, and selected a new outfit; a ruffled skirt of deep purple and a gray blouse. After carefully dressing, she tied the top back of her hair in intricate braids, and put all of her thoughts and efforts in her appearance. Picking up her dark red cloak and tying it around her shoulders, she quickly tip-toed away from the busy opera house and to the cold, crowded streets of Paris. Blending into a merry group of young people, she went into the cafe that neighbored the opera and ordered a hot drink. Throughout the rest of the day, she nursed various drinks, and never left her perch in the back of the outside patio. The girl wistfully watched people leisurely ride through the streets and carriages, laughing couples bundled in layers stroll about, and happy families laughing with their small children. Snow lightly fell, and the heavens were always a soft, dark gray, but when the tiny bit of light began to leave the sky, Christine wearily sighed and payed the for her beverages, then returned to her home.

She sank down to her bed, feeling drained, even though she had not done anything for most of the day. Soon her lids dropped, and she slept. Christine dreamed of angels and demons and all that lay in between, songs of sweet seduction and of cunning betrayals, but most of all, she dreamt of her father.

A short while later, a man appeared at Christine's door. He knocked, softly and lightly, then frowned when he received no answer. He debated himself, then quietly entered the room, to find his fiancee curled up in her bed, looking exhausted but still beautiful in her rare, ethereal sort of lovely. He watched her sleep, a sad smile on his own handsome face. Raoul did not want to wake her up, but he had gotten her the must excellent of surprises to help sooth both their fears. He opened his mouth, just to close it, then took a deep breath and gently sat down next to his love, murmuring gently, "Christine.,,Wake up, my love." And the singer slowly returned to life, opening her large brown eyes and yawning daintily. Her breath smelled faintly of coffee, and her clothes held the tale-tell sign of pastry crumbs, Raoul noted when she tiredly raised her ghostly white arms and stretched. "Hello, dear." Christine finally said once she was awake enough to talk. She was not surprised to find him in her room, though she was shocked that Meg or Mme Giry weren't with also. He smiled, relieved and happy, then scooted closer to his girl, and brushed a stray curl away from her soft face. "I have a surprise for you, Little Lotte." Christine's mood did improve at his playful words. She had always loved surprises.

"You must trust me." Raoul said a few minutes later when he led a blind-folded Christine down from her room . "Of course," the girl hesitantly laughed in response. She felt as if their relationship had undergone something cruel when she had ran away earlier that day, and felt as is she was walking on eggshells with Raoul, even though he was being terribly kind. They beautiful couple hadn't walked very far when the Vicomte tugged Christine to a stop. "We are here," he simple stated, then said, "Let me help you with the blindfold." She let him untie the silk cloth, then blinked at the dim candlelight. She smelled sweet hay and horse. Once the singer's brown eyes adjusted, she peered into the open stall in front of her. The shape of an elegant horse shone in the shadows ahead. Christine turned back towards Raoul with a questioning expression.

"Yes, my love. This horse is yours now!" With a candle in his hand, he joyfully let more light into the dim stall. The horse waiting there made both their mouths drop. She was huge; long and lean with elegant limbs and a glossy black coat. Her wavy mane fell to her withers, the tips of her thick tail flirted with the shavings on the stall floor. The mare slowly turned her midnight-colored face towards the couple, then craned her long neck towards Christine, her dainty ears sliding forward on her head. Christine, as if in a trance, slowly came to the beast with her whites hands outstretched. The horse completed the distance between them and gently snuffled into Christine's palms. That was when the girl noticed the white silken halter on the equine's head. It bore a tiny silver nameplate engraved with "Lady Godiva" in looping letters. Christine laughed with delight as the mare continued to fondle her hand, and Christine brought her other palm up and cautiously began to stroke the horse's silky mane.

"Godiva," she breathed, a soft and peaceful smile on her face for the first time that day. The mare, in turn, cast her intelligent eyes to her young girl and also seemed perfectly at ease.

A stunned Raoul watched the whole exchange. He had bought Christine a small, dainty mare of golden coloring and a sweet, calm disposition. The mare's tack had been of feminine white leather and a purple saddle pad, the mare and her tack made up the perfect lady's horse. The majestic mare that now resided in the same stall was a horse HE would ride, a horse that could look perfectly at ease on a battle-field or out on a hunt. When his Christine had approached the horse, his heart had nearly stopped in fear at how the beast would react. When he had seen how the two got along, his hear still hadn't calmed. While he was glad his love was safe, a boiling anger raced in his blood. The seemingly ill-logical horse swap made perfect sense to him after a few moments of thought.

A huge midnight black horse that already loved Christine,the elegant white silk halter reading "Lady Godiva", it all made sense to him. The cursed Opera Ghost had taken up the chance to toy with his and his lover's lives yet again. "Christine, dearest, I am so glad that you like her." He whispered through clenched teeth. The young opera singer was too enamored with her new mount to notice his strained tone, and replied, "Raoul, she is a dream...But I must ask; why ever did you get me a horse?"

After voicing the question, she returned to whispering follies into the mare's velvety ear. Raoul let out a sigh that more resembled a hiss, then answered, "Darling, I hadn't wanted us to be deceived by that monster yet again. Now, whenever you wish to make a trip, simply call to have your horse saddled and you can ride to your destination...Also, I felt you were in the need of another friend." His last sentence sounded quite girlish and planned, but Christine managed to tear her eyes away from Godiva, and saw the sincerity in his boyish face. "Oh, Raoul!" She exclaimed sweetly, and took her fiancee's lips into her own for a chaste kiss. Then she broke away from the embrace and returned to Godiva, who seemed to adore Christine as much as the girl to her. Raoul watched the girl and the horse for some time before saying, "Sweetling, I'm afraid I must get you to bed now."

Christine nodded, gave Godiva a final kiss on the muzzle, and allowed herself to be led to her room. "Goodnight, Raoul. I really cannot express how much Godiva means to me already." The singer said gratefully, accepted Raoul's goodnight kiss, then retired to her room. Raoul returned to the stable alone. He walked over to Christine's horse and entered the stall. When he tried to approach the mare, she flattened her dainty ears straight against her skull and cast narrow eyes to the Vicomte. He was surprised, then tried to approach again, in a slow and friendly manner. The horse responded in a similar manner as before, then revealed her strong teeth to him and gave a warning sound. "Good God, you positively loathe me!" Raoul gasped in shock. He had never had a creature take a disliking to him in all his bright life. After a third failed attempt, he left the mare's stall and went to where his horse would be waiting. In the place of his large bay gelding was a dainty golden mare, already saddled with white leather and purple fleece. It was the horse he had bought for Christine. "What are you doing here, gal?," he asked in confusion. Then the sound of quiet and triumphant laughter filled his head. His blue eyes widened in fright as the laughter continued, and grew louder and louder. Then voice,such a terrible and beautiful voice, spat, "Young Vicomte, here is the mount that suits you. A feminine little slip of a mare that blindly obeys your weak commands. I took the liberties to give my Angel the mount that most suits her; an innocent creature who belongs to the night. Yes, that sounds just like my Angel....I must confess, I find it rather amusing that you confidently call her your fiancee when her heart, her very soul, belongs to me. And Godiva, whom she already loves, was a gift that I gave. A gift that represents her and I; what we stand for. I wonder how she will react when she realizes you did not give it."

The voice was so enchanting to listen to, but the words being spoken were the very things the Vicomte often worried. Raoul put his hands to his ears and cried, "Stop it! Stop it, you god-damned monster! She does not love you! She hates you! We hate you! Stop it!" Even after his shouts, the voice continued to lash on, though the words were indistinguishable, just one mocking pitch that resonated a lifetime's worth of disdain in one mocking breath. Then finally, he said, "Have you had enough, young Vicomte? I think you should return to your mother's home now. It is safer there, and we don't want you doing anything rash." Raoul's lips tightened, but he did not reply. The Phantom began to laugh again, a cruel and horrible sound that still had tones of ethereal beauty beneath it. "Enjoy your ride home." The Opera Ghost said, while still laughing, then suddenly the candle Raoul had been holding flickered out, and there was silence. Raoul stood in shocked silence for some time, then roused a nearby stable boy and harshly said, " Get this mare to my manor. I do not care how you do it, but just do it, dammit!" Then he searched around for his gelding, till he found him outside the stable, already saddled and ready to return to his warm stall at the De Chagny estate. Shaking his head, Raoul mounted his horse and took off for his home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Later that night~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christine woke with a start. Her heart was pounding, her head ached, and her sheets were twisted around in a frantic disarray. She let her head sink back down to the pillow slowly, and brought one white hand to brush back her sweaty curls. "Just a nightmare, just a nightmare...." she whispered, and tried to close her eyes and return back to sleep But her attempts were to no avail, and she slowly got out of her wrought-iron bed around an hour later. Giving the briefest glance to the blonde in the bed next to her's, Christine went to her trunk and pulled out a tattered sketchbook. After grabbing a pencil and the blanket from her bed, the soprano left the room. She nearly collapsed into the chair that Raoul had brought there the previous night. Arranging herself in a comfortable position, Christine made a table of her lap and began to draw. Whenever she had nightmares as a little girl, her father had placed the sketchbook into her plump hands and told her to draw the object that so tormented her. Then Christine would sketch it out and feel relieved. She drew for hours, and the images slowly changed from those of horrified terror to tender recollection and follies, then things that would never be. After her hand had gone numb from cramping so much, Christine's auburn head slowly fell back against the chair and she slept once again.

Not more then ten minutes after Christine fell asleep, a man stepped out from the shadows of a hidden hall. He walked with the dangerous grace of a hunter, and his ever-changing eyes were set straight ahead. He had but one destination. He reached her in remarkable time, and was not even the least bit out of breath. He was right about to gently the door when he sensed his love's presence. Wrenching his eyes away from his goal, he saw his Christine! She was draped in a little chair, with a blanket precariously over her knees and much-used book in her little white hands. He smiled at her fondly. She was so lovely, so unpredictable to others. He understood her like no one else. Earlier that night, he had sensed Christine's unrest, and so had waited till he felt she would be asleep again so he could comfort her with a soft song. He ever so carefully smoothed a curl away from her forehead, then lightly reached for her sketchbook. He recalled how Christine would hold up the book to the ceiling when she was little, innocently believing that she was showing an Angel her artwork. He flipped through the detailed drawings till he came to a new image.

It was disturbing; two hands reaching out from utter darkness. One hand was clothed in a leather glove, it was elegant and confident. The other hand was naked; strong, pale and yet faltering, the fingers unsure of how to grab, but still reaching. They were obviously the hands of a man. The Phantom stared at the picture, knowing it was what plagued his innocent soprano's dreams. The dream's meaning was clear to him, and his soul wept. With a heavy heart, he turned to the next page. It was him! He was masked and handsome, wearing a black suit and a cold,proud expression. He was standing next to a faceless woman with auburn curls and a dancer's figure. The woman was seated on the bench of his organ with her hands clenched together, and he had one hand possessively on her shoulder. His soul continued to weep. He turned the next page.

It was an image of Christine herself, with him again. But this picture was different from the first. While the other had a cold, fearful feeling, this one contained only lust and wanton suggestions. "Oh my love," the stunned ghost whispered. Christine was dressed only in a white sheet wrapped around her waist, her bare back facing the drawing's viewer. Her curls were pulled over one creamy shoulder, and her face was angled so you could see just her profile. Her lashes were pointing towards to show her closed eyes, and the faint traces of a seductive smile was just visible. She was not even a foot away from his drawn image. He was in profile, wearing an white shirt that unbuttoned to the waist, and tight black pants. The unmasked side of his face was visible, his dark smile and commanding eyes were on Christine. One hand loosely held the sheet around her waist. They stood in front of a huge mirror, with shadows and red roses strewn across the floor around them.

When Erik finished looking at the drawing, his blood was boiling and his soul could no longer weep. If that was what Christine had nightmares about, then he was quite jealous. To help slow his racing, lusty thoughts, he turned the page again, hating to have to stop viewing that racy picture of them. The next image Christine had drawn the exact opposite of the previous lust filled drawing. What occupied the current page was a picture of Godiva. She was standing in rays of sunlight that shone on her glossy coat, and had her elegant head turned with a sweet expression in her wise eyes. It was a drawing that depicted Christine's love for the horse quite clearly. He smiled, the flipped the page. Nothing. Christine's sketch of Godiva had been the last drawing. The Phantom bestowed the faintest of smiles to his confused love, and stroked her hand. The sleeping girl unwittingly sighed, and he ran another gloved hand over her face, then disappeared into the waiting shadows.

The weak light of dawn weakly shone through the high windows and down into Christine's closed. She wearily opened one eye into the light and mumbled. She brought a hand to cover her eyes. Then she sat up abruptly, gasping. Blood red petals fell off her bone-white face, and a smooth rose hit the wood floor. "Oh God!" Christine cried.

The Phantom had been there placing petals on her face, he the thing that she had wished to escape. Once her heart slowed, she opened her sketchbook as if in a trance. She looked at the pictures she had drawn, and her heart sank at the third image. Why had she drawn that? She only prayed he had not seen her drawings. Or that he had stopped looking at the pictures after the second, when she had clearly expressed her fear at living beneath the opera with him. The singer hesitantly rose from the chair, holding the sketchbook with shaking hands. She kicked the rose down the stairs near the chair, and crushed the rose petals under her bare feet. Then she silently entered her room and dressed in a ivory silk shirtwaist with a flounced navy blue skirt. With a sense of growing dread, she winded a matching ribbon into the top of her hair, which she had pulled into intricate braids. She watched her pale form in the mirror, then turned to the ballerina who was still in bed. Meg was peacefully asleep. Christine left the room and wandered down to the stables. Like a wraith, she was unseen to the stable boys who had recently awoken. She let herself into Godiva's stall and wrapped her arms around the mare's neck, laying her white face against the satiny black of the horse.

When Christine re-entered the opera, it was alive with people. She silently walked, lurking in the shadows and watching others frantically rehearse and build for the opera that would premiere that night. She watched for hours. When the winter light began to wan in the afternoon, she saw a huge crowd of people pass. The big faces in the opera formed the group; Carlotta and Piangi, Mme Giry and Meg, Reyer and the managers. The crowd was led by an impassioned Raoul. He was wearing a long coat of golden leather. She caught the end of his speech, "-But remember we hold the ace! For if Miss Daae sings, then he is certain to attend." The managers seemed to have caught on and interrupted, "We are certain the doors are barred! We are certain the police are there!" Raoul nodded, and replied, "We are certain they are armed!" The whole group seemed to join in as they all shouted, "The curtain falls! His reign will end!"

A stunned Christine stepped out from behind a pillar. Raoul glanced up and saw her hurt, betrayed face. Then the singer turned and ran from him. She ran all the way to the chapel, then collapsed onto the stone floor in front of her father's image. Christine wept a few cold tears, and rose from the floor unto her knees. She brought a white hand up to her face and leaned her aching head against it. She had never felt more lost. Then heavy footsteps echoed above her, followed by a frantic Raoul. "Christine!" He whispered, then entered the chapel when he saw her crouched upon the floor.

"Raoul, I'm frightened. Don't make me do this!" She cried. "It scares me." He went to her, but she remained on the floor and vulnerably stared up at him. "Don't put me through this ordeal by fire. He'll take me, I know! We'll be parted forever..." Her voice was nothing more then a broken whisper. The young Vicomte reached down to her, and she hesitantly accepted his hands and rose to stand with him. Looking seriously into his clear eyes, she broke into a laugh filled with irony and a crazed hurt, murmuring, "What I once used to dream, I now dread!"

Raoul gripped her hands tighter and her eyes cleared. Her laughter ceased, and she firmly whispered, "If he finds me, it won't ever end!" The dashing young man searched into her eyes. They were lucid, but yet Christine seemed miles away. He led her over to the window seat, and they were bathed in colors of the stained glass. In a distorted whisper she sang, "_And he'll always be there, singing songs in my head...He'll always be there singing songs in my head..." _

"Christine?" Raoul asked, and the girl turned back towards him again. He thought deeply about his next words, then sang his reply. "_You said yourself-he is nothing but a man...Yet while he lives, he'll haunt us till we're dead!" _He knew the only way to reach Christine was to sing to her_. _And yet that didn't even seem to pull her out of the darkness of her mind. Turning her beautiful face away from him, Christine sang her thoughts.

"_Twisted every way, what answer can I give?" _She helplessly turned back to him and continued, "_Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live? Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?" _She broke off and shakily rose from the bench, then turned back to her fiancee. "_Do I become his prey?" _Her face darkened, and her small hands angrily clenched into her voluminous skirts. "_Do I have any choice!? He kills without a thought! He murders all that's good! I know, I can't refuse!" _She ceased her pacing and finally turned back to her father's shrine. "_...And yet, I wish I could...."_ Her quiet confession came into the otherwise silent chapel, and she gazed at her father's image for strength.

"_Oh, God. I've agreed, now what horrors what for me, in this; the Phantom's opera?" _Raoul looked at her in wide-eyed pity, then silently rose from the seat. Christine turned from her father's shrine to glance back to Raoul. He opened his arms, and she ran into them. Holding her, he gently sang into her hair, _"Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care!_" She cried into his shoulder, and he held her tighter, continuing, "_But every hope, and every prayer rests on you now." _She nodded against him, and they silently grew strength from one another.


	12. Fear

The sun finally sank and the sky changed to a dark blue. Christine left Raoul's warm embrace and entered her dressing room, an ill-foreboding feeling already in place. She changed into a spare dressing gown of thick, creamy cotton and lace, then sat on the dainty stool in front of her vanity. Taking out an ivory comb from a drawer, she combed through her abundant curls and stared at her reflection. A knock on the door interrupted Christine's reverie. "Christine?" The soprano heard her dear friend Meg ask through a crack in the door. "Come in," she replied quietly. The small blond entered the room, graceful like always. She held what appeared to be a costume in her small hands. "Here is your costume for Act 1, if you agree to perform." Meg said, gently setting the outfit on the table in front of Christine. "Yes, I've agreed. Let me see it." She looked down to see a sheer white blouse with loose, lacy sleeves, a gold silk skirt covered with swirling suns, and a black corset of the same pattern. There was also sheer stockings, a black lacy shawl, a large red rose in full bloom, and a chunky yet still delicate bracelet consisting of gold squares. "Oh," Christine said simply, letting her hands trace over the thin skirt. Meg watched her friend dumbly feel the material, then reassured, "All will be well, Christine. The police are already secured at all exits, and Raoul will be supervising the whole thing." .

"Yes...you're right....All will be well," Christine echoed quietly. Meg smiled and helped Christine into her costume. The singer remained mute while she changed. She also kept her face away from Meg, and the room was silent. Meg tied the black shawl around Christine's small waist like she would for a child. Minutes passed after Christine dressed, then Meg finally faced the soprano. "Christine? Christine, are you crying?" The little dancer asked in confusion. Christine finally looked up to Meg and wept, "Oh Meg, nothing shall ever be all right again! Something horrible will happen tonight, I know. The Phantom will return, preforming his opera is not enough!" She collapsed against the dressing stool seat, her head falling into her hands. Meg cautiously walked over to her friend. Christine had seemed rather calm to her, and now the soprano seemed to be having a meltdown. The strength Christine had feigned with Raoul had vanished.

"Everything will be fine. The opera will be a success, and nothing more. You can't know that something horrible will happen tonight. It will be all right, dear Christine," Meg reassured, and placed her hands on Christine's quaking shoulders. The brunette looked up, and with clear eyes, whispered, "No, Meg...I know for certain. I've known him for ten years. That man, the Opera Ghost, he holds my soul. I gave it to him the first time I heard him sing! He will come for me tonight! I know it. Raoul knows it too, and we are just playing a sick game together, delaying the inevitable....I can only hope Raoul shall be safe." Meg looked down at Christine. The brunette stared off into the distance, she was clearly not herself. Christine began to laugh, softly at first. Her laughter grew louder and she barely managed to madly hiss, "We are all just playing a game! I wonder who will lose?" The petite dancer took a deep breath, then slapped Christine's white cheek. The soprano immediately grew quiet, and the two girls stared at each other. Softly, the blond murmured, "I'm sorry for that. You were not yourself." Christine nodded and managed to whisper, "Thank you. I was letting the madness reach me. Do not hesitate to do that again, if needed." Meg nodded and left the room, whispering, "I need to change. You should warm up." She left and Christine was alone.

The girl went over to her window and stared out to the dark streets of Paris. _"Christine.." _a ghostly whisper of song. She jumped and glanced around the room with narrow eyes. "_You shall join me at last...."_ The ghost continued, fading into silence. Fearfully, she ran out of the room. She continued running till the crowded backstage came into view. Dancers stretched to the sound of singers doing their scales and the musicians tuning their instruments. Christine slowed at the reassuring sight of other people and walked over to a group of chorus girls who were vocalizing. She joined in and her breathing calmed.


	13. Inferno

The stage was set. The instruments were tuned, the performers stood ready. Christine crouched in the nook that she always hid in before a performance. She listened to the sound of the distinguished audience settle into their plush sets. Slowly, the soprano closed her eyes. The crowd quieted. Behind her closed lids, she thought she saw the lights dim. A familiar tingle of excitement showered over her body, though this time the excitement was tainted with dread. "One....two....three......." she murmured, then the music began to play.

The overture was a clash of sound. Racing violins and roaring brass instruments played what seemed to be a song made of fire and brimstone. Even after countless rehearsals, Christine still gasped at the sound of it. She heard the audience gasp as well. It was not common music. The singers began to sing, the sound of their voices harsh and queer against the strange noise of the music. Christine opened her eyes. It felt like her ears were bleeding, but yet the music brought forth the thrill of all human emotion. She walked forward a bit, and gently peaked her head around a part of the thick velvet curtain. The set was barbarous in a magnificent way.

Flames danced up to the rafters, which were covered in silk banners of red, black and gold. Circular pits in the floor were made to look like bonfires, with stagehands beneath the stage, fanning the structures to make them appear alive. Around the bonfires were painted suns, spanning through the whole stage with swirls and flames. There were no backdrops, just a few black drapes set up near the back of the stage, which with the fire, made the area dim with shadows and provided a high contrast to the bright flames. And yet, even with the vivid colors of the fire, the most eye-catching thing on the stage was a huge bridge. It was in the center, and underneath it seemed to be a lake of fire. There were winding staircases on either side, with intricate swirls on the banister of the thin rails at the top. On the other side of Christine's nook was a curtained off section, which was supposed to be Don Juan's bedroom.

Christine peaked around the corner. The velvet curtains tickled her face. On center stage, two singers strolled around leisurely. They were portraying Passarino and the infamous Don Juan. Christine nearly laughed as she watched Piangi. The tenor was rather stout and portly, and it was amusing to see him try to portray a dashing sex god. The two men were discussing, in song, how they were to trick the innocent gypsy girl Aminta, who was played by Christine. The soprano found that she actually was really fond of the song "Don Juan." The lyrics were angry and scornful at bits, yet still humorous and clear to understand. The accompanying music was just as heated as the words, but throughout it took breaks into persuasive bits of cool percussion. Sometimes the melody burned Christine just to slow down and flow over her like a soft bit of water. Then it was her time to go on stage. She left her sheltered nook and went to where her prop was waiting backstage. Grasping her basket of red roses firmly, she walked on stage. To the audience, Aminta seemed to be a lovely but dreamy girl dressed in a rather revealing costume. Christine took deep breathes and calmly scanned the still rather stunned crowd.

She leisurely strolled, then bashfully turned her face to the ground and sang, _"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy..." _The role of the innocent gypsy was perfectly suited for the pure-voiced soprano. As if Aminta gained confidence, she lifted her head and finished, _"No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!"_ The cool percussion filled the theater again, and Christine walked over to the side stage a bit, then gracefully sank down. She fiddled with the roses in her basket, and pretended to be lost to the world. Even as hard as she tried to act, she couldn't resist one more glance to Raoul, who sat high in box five. He glance reassured her, and she was able to return to character.

"_Passarino, go away for the trap is set and waits for it's prey..."_ The lilting intro sang by Don Juan was not done by the voice of Piangi. Christine kept her head down but her knuckles went white around the thin stems of her roses. The voice continued, beginning to sing his part in what was one of the most alluring songs of the opera, called "The Point of No Return." Christine longed to turn her head and stare at the singer, to confirm her fears. Slowly, she began to crane her head, her curls falling over her shoulders. Her eyes met his just as he sang, "-_of that wish which till now has been silent, silent._" He put his finger to lips, gesturing to remain silent. He was magnificent. Piangi was gone, and in his place was Don Juan. Tall and regal in a form-fitting black outfit, with a low cut white shirt and a full black cape. Over his face was a black leather mask which only covered his forehead, eyes and nose, leaving his smooth cheeks bare. Even across the stage, he radiated sexuality and power. Christine fully realized that her duet partner was the Phantom of the opera.

She stared down at her skirt with unseeing eyes. She recalled her past words, how "Don Juan Triumphant" was just a game. The biggest question was whether she would play along. Erik began to sing again, _"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge._" Oh God, she thought. Against her will, her eyes closed. His voice was raw and powerful, he sang in a way she had never heard before. "_In your mind, you've all ready succumbed to me, dropped all defenses and completely succumbed to me.." _ And Christine gave up the struggle to remain pure, she joined the game. A soft, wicked smile lite her face as he continued to sing. She opened her eyes to see him still across the stage. He gave his cape a debonair twirl, knowingly shook his regal head then triumphantly sang, "_Now you are here with me. No second thoughts. You've decided..." _ Christine slowly rose, her heart racing in excitement. The Phantom slowly approached her. "_Past the point of no return, no backward glances. Our games of make-believe are at an end..." _Behind him, graceful male dancers clothed in black began to dance to the sound of racing violins. Christine watched him in fascination. His words held not only the sexual references to the opera, but also seemed to represent their twisted relationship. He reached her.

"_Past all thought of if or when; no use resisting!" _The Phantom began to circle her, he was a predator and she; the willing prey. He stopped in front of her and sang in an impossibly rich voice, _"Abandon thought and let the dream descend." _Christine was still mesmerized. She wanted to be touched. Her wish was granted when he next sang, "_What raging fires shall flood the soul?" _The Phantom gracefully stepped behind her, then seized her body close to his. Her loose sleeves came down and left her white shoulders naked. One large hand held her waist to his, and the other covered her swan-like neck. Into her ear, he sang, "_What rich desire unlocks it's door_?" Goosebumps rose over the soprano's bare flesh. Tantalizingly slowly, he slid his warm hands from her neck down to her collarbone and breasts, till he held just her white hand while he continued, "_What sweet seduction lies before us?_" He had brought her hand close to his mouth, and when he sang the word "_us_" into her palm like a caress. Christine experienced it all in a state of scandalized but heated ecstasy. Never had she felt more alive. The Phantom still held Christine's hand, and he led her across the stage while singing, _"Past the point of no return, the final threshold._" He released her and continued singing. Once the contact was broken, Christine stared down at the floor. What was she doing? Her basket of roses was near her feet. The girl was dazed at her behavior, but at the same time, she knew that she wasn't going to stop their duet anytime soon. It was too powerful, and she was helpless to resist.

Christine turned back to him again and caught his eyes as he sang, "_What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn, beyond the point of no return_?" His gaze was intense, packed full of meaning. Still holding his eyes, she self-cautiously pulled up one of her sleeves to try to cover herself. It no longer even mattered whether she was in character, the audience wouldn't know the difference. They were no longer disgusted with the raucous opera, but caught up in the passion and drama between the two singers on stage. Christine was struggling just to maintain standing. She shook her head in disbelief. What had they come to? Suddenly remembering her fiancee, she glanced up towards Raoul. He had a policeman standing behind him. She held his gaze regretfully and sang her poetic introduction, which was just as full of innuendo's as Erik's had been. Raoul jumped and alerted the managers, who were in the box next to him. She wondered how they hadn't noticed that Piangi had been replaced by someone taller, thinner, younger, sexier, and a much better singer. Christine brought her eyes back to the stage, to show Raoul that no action was necessary yet. She knew that he knew that the man playing Don Juan who was pretending to be Passarino was actually the Phantom. _Oh Raoul, _Christine thought mournfully. She had already partaken in the game, now she was a leading player. Nothing between her and the Vicomte would ever be the same again. She was no longer naïve, after being in this opera and singing to the only man who made her experience lust. _A terrified sort of lust, _the soprano thought in torment.

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes from the fiery floor of the stage. Don Juan was still standing across from her, his gaze hot and expectant. She had reached a crucial part in the song. _It's now or never._ She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, a sultry smile was on her face. "-_In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent..._." She faced him, and leaned forward a little, so her sleeves would drop to reveal her naked shoulders. Innocent Christine became a seductress, lowering her eyelids and showing her breasts. "_Now I am here with you, no second thoughts. I've decided_..." The Phantom smiled knowingly. He had lite the fire with his words and actions, now Christine was alive and burning. They shared an intense look when she repeated, "_I've decided._" He nodded to her words. Erik turned and began to walk slowly and confidently towards the left end of the staircase. Christine daringly faced the audience and sang, "_Past the point of no return, no going back now!" _Her voice sounded like nothing anyone had ever heard before. Like always, it was pure, but now her voice had power, confidence, and a driving passion that gave goosebumps to all.

Then, quickly turning so her gold skirt fanned about in the air, she continued, _"Our passion play has now at last begun." _ She began to walk towards the right stairwell. The Phantom stood at the steps of the left, coolly waiting and obviously enjoying Christine's show. She reached the stairwell and grasped the railing. _"Past all thought of right or wrong," _she sang, and began to slowly walk up. As she walked, her hands ran over the banister and she leaned into it in a highly sexual dance. "_one final question-" _Christine looked across the stage to Don Juan and purposefully sang, "_How long should we two wait before we're one?" _

The Phantom was entranced with the singing soprano just as the audience was. They had never experienced such raw emotion in an opera house. The most involved member of the crowd was the young Vicomte. He watched his innocent Christine on the stage and his heart broke. For the first time in years, his eyes filled with tears. His fiancee would never sing to him like that, they would never experience that raw emotion with each other. He would never be enough for her. Just like the words to the song, that night Raoul felt that the three of them were passing the point of no return.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs, Christine sang, _"When will the blood begin to race?" _The Phantom stood across the thin walkway, appraising her. He gave a cocky smile, then in a fluid motion, removed his cloak and flung it to the side. It gracefully fell to the bottom of the stage. Inspired by his actions, the soprano continued, "_When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom?" _ They walked towards each other, lust shining in both sets of eyes. One last step, then they stood a foot away from each other. Christine looked up at him and dared, "_When will the flames, at last, consume us?!_"

Swiftly, they grabbed eachother's hips and seized themselves together. Closely, the two sang, "_Past the point of no return, the final threshold!" _Christine looked up to him, and as they were so close, nearly kissed him as they continued, "_The bridge is crossed,"_ then they boldly faced the audience. He slickly spun the girl so her back rested against his lean chest. "_So stand and watch it burn!" _Calming a bit, she leaned her head against his broad shoulder and he stroked her curls. Christine relaxed and closed her eyes. He sighed. Slowly and surely, they finished, "_We've passed the point of no return." _The music faded.


	14. The Lair

Reality faded. Christine felt him tuck a curl away from her ear, and in a voice soft enough for only her to hear, he sang, _"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime..." _ Her bright, amber-colored eyes flashed open. His voice was pleading. _"Lead me, save me from my solitude!" _ The Phantom continued to quietly beg. His hands were timidly caressing her now. Where had the confident, sexy man who had previously sang vanished to? Just as the thought left her mind, Erik's voice grew loud and powerful. The entire audience heard him sing, "_Say you want me with you here, beside you!_" Christine pulled herself away from his arms to look into his greenish tinted eyes.

Her lush lips silently mouthed, "Why? Oh, Erik, why?" The man ignored her, taking her hands into his own and firmly holding them against his powerful chest. Erik reached a crescendo. Christine thought she had never heard a more tragically beautiful sound when he sang, "_Anywhere you go, let me go too!"_ She remained out a trance though. The soprano realized she could still receive pleasure from his music, but that it could never consume her mind like it had previously. She was free from him at last. The realization hurt her like a physical blow. Her mind was free, but was her soul and heart? The man singing before her seemed unfazed by her inner struggles. She wrenched her hands away and looked up at him with hurt, confused eyes. _"Christine, that's all I ask of-"_

The way he uttered her name was like a slap to her face, he sang it so tenderly and confidently. She was radiating with confusion and pain, and didn't know how to stop it. Erik's black mask stared back at her face, and his eyes were earnest beneath the shadows cast by the fake flames. The soprano brought a hand to his face, like a caress. He was smooth and hot. The breath he exhaled while he sang tickled her face. In a motion faster then lightning, she pulled off the mask. He never finished his song. The garish red of his distorted face was revealed to the entire audience. Her eyes filled with tears. She had betrayed him, and in doing so, she had betrayed herself. Erik only stared at her, his eyes reflecting the sad acceptance he felt. "I'm sorry," the girl gasped, her lips barely moving. He shook his head, and unsheathed his costume sword. Only then she saw that it was real. Erik slashed a set of ropes. Christine glanced up to see the magnificent chandelier, the structure that had lit her world for the past ten years, began to fall. She screamed. The Phantom gave her no other time to react. He wrapped his arms around her small waist in a vise-like grip, then kicked a lever that had appeared hidden until that moment. They began to fall into the flames underneath the bridge. Christine wrapped her arms around him and screamed like only an opera singer could. They vanished from sight, but the chaos from the fallen chandelier consumed the audience and workers. The chords attaching the light fixture had been lit aflame, and they had dragged across the whole theater. Everything was in flames. It was an ironic, destructive tribute to the opera that had been performed that night. No one noticed the loss of the two lead singers except those on stage and the Vicomte De Chagny.

"Down once more we plunge to the dungeons of my black despair!" Erik screamed. They were in the corridors that led to his lair. Christine tried to plant her feet still, but he dragged her forward. The delicate rose had fallen out of her hair, and her curls were wildly tossed as he viciously propelled her.

"Stop!" Christine cried. She frantically turned back and one of her small hands tried to clasp the stone of the corner they had just turned. His strength overpowered hers, and they continued on. "Down we fall to the prison of my mind! Down to HELL!"

Christine knew her unmasking had driven him to the point of madness. Yes, he had always been mad, but it now consumed him. She feared for her life. "You've brought this darkness!" he hissed. Erik suddenly stopped. Christine slammed into his hot, shaking back. Slowly, menacingly, he turned towards her. "And your wondering why this is happening to you? Good, innocent Christine doesn't deserve this!" he roared with strange laughter, then finished, "And it hasn't even begun!" He continued to drag her forward. "What have I done?" the soprano moaned when gondola came into view. The Phantom seized her into his arms and carried her into the boat. Christine weakly tried to hit him, but she didn't have the heart to do it. He dropped her into the boat, and stepped on her dress so she couldn't escape. Then Erik angrily began to row, and they were sent forward in silence.

"Why, Christine, why?" he cried, shattering the quiet. "I've been a hunted down by everyone, met with hatred everywhere! Never a kind word! Never compassion!" She shuddered against his leg. Tears filled her eyes. Why had she done it? Pitifully, the girl reached out and placed a hand on his leg in apology. He didn't acknowledge the contact. "Christine....Christine...." Erik rasped, his rage seeming to fade into an endless sorrow. He rowed the gondola into the small pier, then looked down at her with teary eyes. "Why?" he repeated, his voice nothing more then a broken whisper. She didn't answer him. His anger returned. With a hiss, he lifted her from the boat and nearly threw her onto a soft rug near his organ.

It was then that Christine embraced her own emotions. Like countless other times with the Phantom, she had repressed herself in order to soothe him. After he had spent years lying, seducing and controlling her emotions, it was when she realized that he _kidnapped_ her that Christine's patience finally broke.

She rose to a defensive position and hissed, "Have you gorged yourself at last on your lust for blood? Are you to make me prey to your flesh? His back snapped into a straight line and he slowly turned to face her. Pain radiated from his body as he looked at her. "I have never experienced the joys of the flesh." Christine withdrew from him.

"This fate is yours now," were his only words as he walked away. Christine hesitantly followed him. He stopped and gestured to a figure on his right. It was the mannequin dressed in a wedding dress. Christine immediately understood and gasped with horror. "No," she breathed. He gave her a cruel smile, then put a hand on her white shoulder. She shuddered. His warm hands caressed her, then he tore off the lacy sleeves. "Stop, stop, please!" Christine screamed as his large hands fell to her corset. He ripped away the laces and gold skirt until she was in just her underclothes. Her eyes fell to the floor in shame. There was a moment of complete stillness, only interrupted by the sounds of their heavy breathing. Then Christine tried to run. She didn't know where she would go, only that she had to leave. But he caught her arm in a steel grasp. "Turn around and face your fate, an eternity of **THIS!**" He whirled her around to face him. Their breath came out as gasps as they faced each other. They were only inches apart. His gaze lowered in shame at having her perfection so close to his own sin. In a shattered whisper, he finished, "I will always be before your eyes." He released her arm and walked to his organ. Erik nearly fell to the seat. A mask rested on the smooth surface above the keys. He gave a laugh that could almost be mistaken for a sob, and shouted, "Pity comes to late!" He looked at the mask and screamed, "A mask! My first gift, my first piece of clothing, my first attempt to win love from my mother! All I've ever had was a mask to cover the monstrosity of my face, and it still poisons! It destroyed our love..This face...only this face..."

To Christine surprise, she found herself drifting towards him. She gently laid a hand over the malformed features on the right side of his face. "This haunted face holds no horror for me now-"

He met her gaze with hopeful, disbelieving eyes. She looked away. Then she walked over to a nearby mirror and ripped off the cover so his gruesome features were exposed. Then she finished, "but it's in your soul that the true distortion lies." Erik's expression fell. Christine stepped away from the mirror. A moment of thoughtful, frightening silence followed. Then the Phantom said, "Go put the dress on, Christine." She glanced at him in surprise, but remained still. "DO IT!" Christine cried out but ran off to the mannequin. Tearing the dress off the doll, she held it in her arms and inspected the gown. It was flawlessly beautiful. She hated it. Christine calmly walked to her room and began to change. The undergarments fit her perfectly, the corset snug against her smooth skin. She struggled with the ivory buttons along the side of the gown, but she didn't dare go to Erik for help. At last, she finished. Christine stared into her mirror. "My wedding day." she whispered. "Oh, Raoul." She was supposed to marry her Vicomte and live happily ever after. That ending had been stolen away from her. The loss of it burned into Christine and her eyes filled with tears as she looked upon her reflection. The white of the elaborate gown sparkled against her skin. The two sleeves fell away from her shoulders, and glinted with pearls and small pink flowers. The large skirt draped around her hips in one low arc, then fell to silky waves to the floor. The low neckline was a pale ivory against the white of the gown, and was patterned with pearls and flowers like the sleeves. She slowly left her room with a sense of dread. The beauty of his lair was lost on her as she returned to him.

"Christine!" he gasped when he saw her. A smile of satisfaction grew on his ravished face. To her surprise, he hurried off. Christine wearily sank against the stony wall. Then he returned. In his hands was a gorgeous ivory veil that perfectly matched her dress. He reverently placed it atop her mahogany curls. "The perfect bride." he breathed. She stepped away from him. "No, Erik, please-" Christine began. But he interrupted her. His voice was strangely delightful. "Wait, my dear, I think we have a guest!" Christine followed his line of sight. **"Raoul!"** she screamed. Her fiancee stood behind the grates of the portcullis that sank into the murky waters of the lair. He was drenched and bleeding.

"Isn't this a marvelous surprise? I had rather hoped that you would come! And now you have. Really, sir, you've made my night." Erik's voice was low and mocking. Raoul passionately banged his fists against the steel. Christine shuddered, but was thankful the portcullis provided a barrier between her fiancee and her captor. "Free her! Do whatever you wish to me, but only free her! Have you no pity?" Christine's eyes fell to the floor. Raoul was too noble for his own good. The Phantom laughed.

"Pity?** Pity? **The world showed no pity to me!" he spat, and strode over to Christine. He slide an arm around her waist and wrenched her close to him. "Let me go," she cried. "I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some mercy!" Raoul wrapped his arms through the grate and tried to get closer Christine. "Please, Raoul, it's useless!" the devastated soprano cried, willing him to leave. The Phantom laughed again, and pulled Christine even closer to him. Raoul continued to implore to the Phantom. "Christine! Christine..." he gasped. Christine wrenched herself away from the Phantom. He let her go. She walked to the end of the small pier, but was still far from her love. "Raoul..." she softly murmured. "Let me see her!" Raoul shouted to the Phantom. "Then be guest, sir." The Phantom said. He seemed eerily amused by the whole situation. The gate began to slowly rise.

"Monsieur, I bid you welcome. Do you enjoy my home?" he gestured around his spacious lair. Then he turned his cruel eyes toward Christine, though he directed his sneers to Raoul. "Did you think I would harm her?" Raoul entered his lair, struggling through the deep water with his wounded arm. The Phantom stepped into the lake. Raoul didn't flinch when Erik stopped nearly six feet in front of him. "Why should I make her pay for the sins which are** yours**?" Out of nowhere, a noose fell around Raoul's smooth neck. Christine screamed and nearly fell off the pier. The Phantom jumped forward and slammed the Vicomte against the grate. Raoul was in a state of shock, and let him tie him to the unforgiving steel. Then Erik fastened the noose so Raoul was caught. Erik laughed and spit at Raoul, "Nothing can save you now, except Christine!"

"What have you done?" Christine accusingly gasped to the Phantom. He ignored her question, and continued, "Start a new life with me, buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his death! This is your final choice..._this is the point of no return!_" The duet they had earlier sang suddenly gained horrible clarity in Christine's mind. She shot a horrified glance to her fiancee, then spat, " All the tears I'd have shed for you grow cold and turn to tears of hate!" The Phantom's queer eyes widened with her unusually hateful words. She took the veil off her head and threw it into the murky water. It floated near the Phantom. "Christine, forgive me! Please, forgive me! It was all for you and all for nothing!" Raoul moaned.

Perhaps it was Raoul's selfless declaration, perhaps it was the building emotion, but they all began to cry out at once. The Phantom sneered at Raoul, "To late for turning back! To late for prayers and useless pity!" Christine froze Erik's heart as she whispered, "We had such hopes, but now they're all shattered." The Phantom grabbed the veil and stepped out of the lake. He began to walk towards her. Christine faced him fearfully, but then Raoul's rich voice called, "Christine, don't! Say you love him and my life is over!" She sobbed out at his impassioned words, but bravely faced the Phantom as he reached her and slammed the veil onto her wild curls.

"Do you end your days with me?" Erik spat. Christine fervently shook her head. The noose around Raoul's neck suddenly tightened, and he gasped. She looked over at him helplessly. Raoul still managed to sneer, "Why make her lie to you to save me?" Christine could tell it cost her fiancee dearly to talk. Time was running out. She turned to the man next to her. "Angel of music, who deserves this?"

Reacting to her inner conviction, she grasped his shirt and implored- "When will you see reason?"

Raoul couldn't hear her, and shouted, "For Christ's sake, Christine, say no!" The Phantom brushed off Christine and strode back into the lake. Once he was in the water, he turned back to her and called, "His life is now the prize which you must earn!" The soprano sadly shook her head in disbelief. The man who held her fiancee's life in his hands had once been her savior, her Angel. She locked eyes with Erik. He seemed dead, emotionless. Raoul interrupted the silence to mournfully whisper, "_I fought so hard to free you..._"

The Phantom shut his eyes at Raoul's words. He picked up a rope from the water and tightened the noose around the Vicomte's neck. His blue eyes clenched in pain as the coarse rope tore into his fine skin. "You've passed the point of no return." Christine sank to her knees. The billowy gown flounced around her. "Angel of music," she called. Automatically, he responded to the name. Christine sorrowfully shook her head and finished, "You deceived me. I gave my mind blindly!" Where would they be at that moment if he hadn't controlled her so? Christine's accusing words weren't what the Phantom urgently needed to hear. He narrowed his eyes and hissed, "You've tried my patience. Make. Your. Choice." His last three words were uttered with a deadly precision.

Christine rose from her knees. She stared back to Raoul. Quickly, she mouthed the words, "_I love you_." It was the first time she had actually said it to him. Raoul shut his eyes in pain. Then Christine began to walk down the pier and into the lake. She entered the water and gasped. It was freezing. Her skirts billowed up into the water as she walked towards the Phantom. She stopped three feet in front of the man. It was finally time for her to make her first decision as a woman. For once, she was stepping up. Even though he had hurt her and killed her innocence, Erik had made a woman of Christine. She shot a final glance to Raoul. Then the soprano softly uttered- "My pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?" She imagined the life she would live with him. It would be filled with fear, despair....and music. In his own dark way, she knew he could make a happy woman of her. Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a sparkling ring. It was the ring he had ripped of her throat at the masquerade ball. He held it questioningly in his wet palm.

With a doubt in her mind, she firmly grasped his hand over her own. He slid the ring onto her fourth finger. "God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!" Christine cried. Erik's eyes widened as he looked down at Christine's hand. She strode those last few inches closer, and seized his face into her hands. One palm covered his handsome side, the other hand covered his viciously ugly half. He reeled in shock at having her caress his features. Then Christine leaned closer, and covered his lips with her own. It was an act of devotion and compassion. It was her sacrifice. She truly intended to show him that she fully would be his. She would be eternally fateful, though the future would always be unclear between them. The Phantom stood stone-still against her. She recalled that he had never experienced the joys of the flesh. Oh, the poor man in front of her! The soprano continued to urgently ravish his lips. He suddenly gasped and withdrew from her. Rapturously, he gasped, "My wife! My living bride!" Yet he still didn't dare to touch her.

Christine's hands trailed down his face and ended in an embrace pulling her tighter to him. "Yes," she breathed. Then she kissed him again. It was a lover's kiss. He didn't move. She revealed to him all of her passions, and he suddenly became alive. Their lips danced together. The girl had never felt anything like it before. It felt wrong....but also very right. Their kiss was a Pandora's box, a thrill that was never meant to have been experienced. Suddenly, wet droplets fell to Christine's face. She reluctantly drew away to look into the Phantom's eyes. He was crying! Concerned at his response, and feeling a queer sense of hope, Christine hesitantly put her hand onto his chest. He shuddered and continued to weep. Keeping her hand against him, he turned to Raoul.

For the first time, he addressed him without disdain or hatred. There was only despair in his lovely voice as he commanded- "Take her. Forget me! Forget all of this!" With shaking hands, he raised Christine's palm to his mouth and tenderly kissed it. After, he released her and walked out of the freezing water. Christine stared after him in shock. Then she ran towards Raoul and struggled with the knots that bound him. While she did that, the Phantom knocked over mirrors and precious furniture. Christine heard the glass shatter when she finally was able to free Raoul. He gasped in air thankfully, then wrapped his arms around a shivering Christine. She fell against him. "I love you!" Raoul panted into her soft curls. "Go! Before it's too late!" Erik screamed. The girl released her fiancee. "Take the boat!" The Phantom hissed. Raoul hurried off to the gondola and disappeared from sight. Christine desperately followed after him. While he readied the boat, she stroked him broad shoulders and damp hair, reassuring herself that he was alive and well. With the Vicomte beneath her fingertips, she couldn't believe that she had just kissed the Phantom. Not once, but twice.

The gondola was finally ready. Raoul prepared to lift Christine into the boat. "No, Raoul, wait!" she cried, and hurried back into the main room of the lair. The Phantom was standing at the pier. He looked to Christine, then to Raoul. "Swear to me never to tell the secrets you know...of the _angel in hell!_" Raoul bravely nodded, then turned away. Christine placed a quivering hand on his arm, and tenderly kissed his cold cheek. "Leave us for a moment," she whispered. Raoul shot her a alarmed look, but left for the gondola when he looked into Christine's sincere eyes. She turned back, and saw that the Phantom had vanished. Lifting her wet, heavy skirts, she walked into her room. She knew he would be there.

Erik sat next to the monkey music box that had awoken her the first night in his lair. In a miserable voice, he sang, "_Masquerade - hide your face so the world will never find you!"_ He seemed unaware of Christine's presence until she sobbed out at his inconsolable words. Erik looked up at her. With tears streaking down both sides of his face, he opened his mouth and spoke. There was no hesitancy in his voice, nor had he ever sounded more compelling and lovely as he said, "Christine, I love you." Christine tore her eyes away from him and fell to her knees. It was the first time he had directly told her those words. The monkey box played on, oblivious to the struggles of the humans around it. The soprano gasped out a breath, then slowly rose. She approached him. His eyes were so hopeful to her. She shook her head. "No, my love, no." the girl murmured, unaware whether he heard her anguished whisper. She reached out for his hand. Then she struggled with ring. With effort, it came off her pale finger. Christine gently put the shining ring into his palm, and closed his musician's fingers around the stone. She knelt down and stared into his eyes. They brimmed over with tears. The soprano gave a fleeting kiss to his closed fingers, then rose.

"_I love you," _he breathed. Christine sadly shook her head. After a lingering glance, she slowly walked away from the lair for the last time.

**AUTHER'S NOTE** : Hi, guys! Sorry for changing the Final Lair scene a bit, I just felt it was more realistic to have them not singing for my story. And, don't fear, this is NOT the last chapter. No, there is indeed quite a lot more to come in this story! Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, it really does make this girl's day much better:)


	15. Youth's Follies

They arrived at his home. Raoul gallantly stepped out of the carriage and helped Christine down. The wedding dress she wore was still heavy with the weight of the water from the lair. "You'll stay here," he said. Christine weakly nodded. She had no other place to go. "I'll have one of the guest suites readied for you. You''ll stay with my family until we're married." The soprano nodded. "Until we're married..." she echoed. They stopped in front of the huge door. Raoul gallantly moved to open it for her. "Wait!" Christine cried. Raoul paused and turned back to her. Her tired eyes looked earnestly into his. "I know it must be hard...loving me." The Vicomte raised his hands as if to stop her.

"No, let me finish. I just wanted to say that...I love you, too. Even when it doesn't always seem like it. It's so easy to love you, I forget myself every now and then. And...it's just...It's sometimes...Oh. I think I love Erik too." Christine tore her eyes from Raoul's and looked into the night around them. Raoul bit his fine lower lip and waited for her to finish.

"But if there's anything I've learned from all of this – it's that there's different sorts of love. Erik...well, the Phantom to you...I couldn't be with him for the rest of my life. It would destroy us. But you, Raoul, I want to be with you. I love you, and it's a healthy, good love." She reached out to grasp his hands. "I want to marry you, and soon. We can be happy together, even if we're tainted with sorrow. So...thank you. Thank you for giving me shreds of happiness when everyone else only offered confusion and disdain. I want to spend the rest of my life making you a happy man, Raoul." She turned back to him. Her features mirrored the firm resolution in her mind. "Oh, Christine..." he murmured, and crushed her against his chest. She let him. A few moments later, he led her inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Three Weeks Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't you think that dress is a bit immodest?" A high voice cooed. Adelynn, Raoul's beautiful but judgmental mother, had unaccompanied Christine to the dress maker's. Christine had regretfully agreed to a new gown for a ball that would hold announce her engagement to the public. The employees of the opera house had already known such, but they had since scattered. The fire had devastated the theater, and the slow plans of reconstruction were already being built. An older and nearly deserted theater, simply called the Opera de Paris, was now the current opera house for Parisians to attend. Many of the workers and performers were transferred there, and the rest simply vanished.

"I think not," Christine sweetly answered. The gown was a light peridot colored silk, with loose sleeves that fell of her shoulders and a bodice lined with garnets at the seams. While Adelynn loathed her son's fiancee, she kept to a kind and polite nature in public, and Christine did the same. "The color is most demure," Christine continued. She smoothed her hands over the ruffled skirt. It was covered in silky waves linked by more garnets. The soprano would wear a gold mesh net over up swept curls, and dainty little golden slippers. "I am quite fond of the sweetheart neckline dear, but I would advise it to be raised." Adelynn sniffed. The dress was acceptable for a young woman, but the Comtess wanted a reason to harass Christine and it proved to be the only option. "The final alternations for your gown have been made, Madame De Chagny." the humble maid said, entering the dressing room. "Madame Layette herself has decreed it so." Adelynn immediately ignored Christine, and hurried out of the dressing room to coo over her new plum colored gown. Two tediously spent hours later, Christine was finally permitted to leave. She immediately ran into her room at the De Changy mansion. It was very feminine; filled with pastel colors, soft pillows and rugs, sweet smelling candles and roses of all colors, excluding red. She quickly walked through the room, and swept out into the balcony. The lovely room overlooked one of the gardens, and felt very private to her. She loved it.

"Knock knock," a sweet voice called. "Raoul!" Christine squealed, and turned to see her fiancee stride in. He had recently gotten his hair cut, and now the golden waves fell to layers around his ears. She thought it made him look even more dashing. The boyish features of his face seemed to have faded since the night of Don Juan's opening, and his new haircut made him appear to be a handsome and at last, completely grown man. The new clarity of his striking face and hardened features inspired thoughts of both happiness and heartache, and Christine experienced a new degree of physical attraction she hadn't ever felt. Raoul reached her and Christine eagerly kissed him. "I adore this," he murmured. Christine kissed him again, then demurely asked, "What?" Raoul wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and ran his lips along her neck. "The way you touch me. You're open now, Christine. You never let me touch you before, my love. And I'm not just talking about physically, dear. You used to close your...your very being, your soul to me. Now I feel so close_, _so_ connected_ with you - spiritually and physically. Indeed, access to your sweet caresses is a delight I shan't ever tire from." He quickly licked the soft skin beneath her ear, and Christine giggled nervously. She strove to be pure and open with Raoul, to keep true to her promise made after leaving Erik. It wasn't very hard, she loved Raoul and he was terribly handsome. Thoughts of Erik sometimes came to her unexpectedly and staggered her, and those were what made it difficult to be completely open with her husband to be. Her new physical relations with Raoul scared her and thrilled her in equal parts. They had both agreed to save the holy act of making love for their wedding night, for which Christine was relieved, but his kisses and wandering hands had become frequent occurrences. And Christine wantonly encouraged them!

The soprano found her new boldness to be embarrassing, though Raoul clearly loved it. It was her first time with such things, excluding all of the burning touches the Phantom had laid over her skin. She would awaken at night from passionate dreams every so often. Sometimes it was Raoul who touched her, sometimes it was Erik. The nature of the dreams horrified her, to be thinking of such naughty things before she was wed, and sometimes with a man who wasn't her fiancee! Though for a short time she had been forced to be... Overall, Christine decided to be very honest with her husband. When he asked her what plagued her mind, she told him, even if it was Erik. Such revelations hurt him, but he readily admitted that he would rather know then always wonder if her thoughts pined after that other man. They both stated that honesty would help them keep a pure relationship, and so they were happy.

"Oh Raoul!" Christine moaned as the pressure of his kisses increased. Raoul grudgingly backed away and offered his arm. "I was actually sent up here to escort you to dinner, love. I fear that I we were distracted. Forgive me?" She playfully batted at his arm and said, "Always. I just don't know if your mother will." Christine had informed him of his mother's awful behavior. Raoul had simply chuckled and said, "I knew it! Mother really isn't a bear. She just always entertained hopes of me wedding some royal heiress. She'll leave you alone once we're safely married. Really, dear, she won't be too atrocious." Christine had laughed with him, and they had let the subject die. Raoul's family, excluding Adelynn, seemed to love Christine. Philippe, the youngest, even seemed overly fond of the young singer. His attentions sometimes embarrassed her, and Raoul would in turn be overtly protective. But in Philippe she had found a true friend; he made her laugh and never asked to learn about the scandal from Don Juan's premiere. "Just think, tomorrow night the world will know of our engagement!"

Christine laughed, then replied, "Dear, I imagine everyone already knows. I'm living at your home!" He led her into the wide hallway and murmured, "However true that may be, you should know how I've looked forward to that night. Ever since that gala night so many months ago, I've wanted _this!_" He gestured to their linked hands. "I've always known I'd wed you. Always, even when I was a young boy who had hurried into the sea to rescue your scarf." Christine smiled at his tender words of adoration, and replied, "I only wish I had been so decisive. All of these problems my fickle heart led to...but it is alright now. We've been granted our happy ending."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~One Month Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were to be married the very next day. It had been a scandalously short engagement, but Raoul had grown restless. "I've waited this long for her, and we've been secretly engaged for months!" the Vicomte often said as an explanation to his confused friends and despairing mother. Christine's gown had been rushed into preparation by the most coveted dressmaker in France, and the wedding invitations and finery had been created in the short days after the engagement ball. Christine had learned a basic understanding of Raoul's society rules in the month after the ball. His "closest" friends, which included the richest and noblest of the French had opted to accept Christine. She noticed how some of the women disdainfully smirked at her behind their fans, but most offered tight smiles and she was grateful. There were a few who weren't included in Raoul's large circle, and they were the ones who clambered for her attention. They smiled too often, wore immodest gowns and to be put simply– garish. Those women and men annoyed and warmed Christine in equal parts. They reminded her of the employees of the Opera Populaire, whom she greatly missed. If she was truthful, there was much she missed about the opera. She had barely attained her "Prima Donna" title before it was stolen away. The soprano wanted to sing on the stage until she peacefully died with gray curls. Such a life was impossible with Raoul as a spouse, so she hadn't applied for a job at the Opera de Paris. Trying to remain inconspicuous, she weekly sought out information about the current theater. The Opera Populaire had recently begun it's lengthy construction. It was rumored that it would take a bit less then a decade to restore.

The news left Christine heartbroken. An innocent desire to once again reign over the Populaire had bloomed in her heart, and she had childishly wanted to sing there once it reopened. The reality of it all crashed over her a week ago, and she had run, weeping, into Raoul's arms. He hadn't understood her tears, but had comforted her. Then Christine had seen the new soprano at the de Paris. She was beautiful, with long golden curls and vivid brown eyes. Her name was Alais, and she would sing at Christine's wedding, though both Raoul and the girl had never heard her. There were rumors about her astonishing voice. It made Christine's skin crawl. She had never felt such jealously over a girl she hadn't ever met. The soprano wasn't a jealous or suspicious creature by nature, but the days away from her music had made her harder, more aware of her situations. Just like Raoul had grown up after they left the opera, so had Christine. Neither of them were innocent like they had been, and their adult struggles seemed to draw them even closer together. Christine's new boldness and awareness over her control of Raoul spurred her into action.

She was supposed to be in bed. It was late, even the servants had retired to their rooms. Christine was dressed in an elaborate, worn dressing gown. It was sparkling white, sheer, lacy, womanly. To her, it held exquisite and sinful memories. She wore it the night before her wedding in an act of remembrance to the man who had pushed her passage into womanhood. She wore it to honor his sacrifice in releasing her, she wore it to honor him and the life he had granted her to live. On her slender finger was a ring shaped like a rose.

"Raoul?" Christine whispered. She had just entered his room, which was empty. "Raoul?" she repeated, then saw that his balcony door was open. "There you are," she murmured while walking into the dark, then wrapped her arms around his trim waist. He shuddered. "Hmm?" the soprano asked. Raoul shuddered again, then stiffened. "What's wrong, dear?" Christine asked with growing curiosity. Raoul felt different somehow – like he had been standing outside for a very long time, and had grown cold and somber. Then he turned.

~~~~Yeah, that was a cliffhanger if you didn't realize it. Guys, I really appreciate reviews...so...hint hint :) Thanks for reading.


	16. The Wedding

"Christine?" his wearily asked. It sounded like he had been fighting off tears. Christine immediately withdrew her arms in shock. Her cheeks inflamed, she took a step back from him and tried to cover herself. The dressing gown wasn't modest. "Philippe, what are you doing out here?" Christine tried to muster indignation but only sounded embarrassed. Philippe let his handsome head drop into his hands.

"I...I don't know." He sighed. "Christine, you know how I feel about you." Slowly raising his head, the young Vicomte turned to stare into Christine's eyes. She looked back at him with pity. They had grown close over the course of time that Christine had lived with the de Chagnys, but she only viewed him as a dear friend. Philippe desperately wanted more from her but never spoke of his desires. He respected his older brother too much. His earnest attention flattered her, but she was quite tired of men falling in love with her.

"Philippe, it's only a passing fancy," she murmured and awkwardly patted his shoulder. He miserably nodded and turned away from her. Her thoughts conjured back to nights at the opera house. To herself, she whispered, "It seems men only want what they know they can't have." She sighed. They stood in silence for a few moments, then the soprano asked, "Where is Raoul?" Philippe reached into his waist coat pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. Curiously, Christine unfolded it and read, "_I feel restless. Am going for a ride. Don't tell Mother or Father. If Christine inquires, show her this. Will be back in time by tomorrow. Thanks."_ Her voice fell to silence and she stared out at the vast De Changy grounds with accusing eyes. While it was perfectly acceptable for men to be nervous before their wedding, Christine felt that Raoul should have been _above_ that. They had gone through so much together, it was like they were already married. Why should a mere ceremony scare him so? "...I'm going to retire. Goodnight, Philippe." With a disappointed sigh, she gave a final pat to his shoulder and left the balcony. Her night-time escapade made her feel too lively to sleep, but she returned to her room. Instead of falling to her bed and sleeping, Christine instead went to her own balcony. She shed a few childish tears but felt too silly in doing so. Drying her tears, she leaned upon the balcony railing and consulted the stars above.

She wasn't sure when the realization hit her – the sudden knowledge that she wasn't alone. Calmly, she began to look around her surroundings. Christine couldn't see a single person, but she knew there was some one there, watching her. Strangely, she wasn't frightened. Perhaps it was the late hour, perhaps she was too stressed, but the presence of another person only intrigued her. "Any one there?" The soprano asked the night sky. Silence was her only answer. For a few moments, Christine allowed herself to realize that she was disappointed. Had she wanted a stranger to be there?

A few moments later, she turned and began to make her way back indoors. Right as her hand began to turn the door handle, she heard a soft thump. Christine jumped a little, then immediately turned back around.

Resting upon the smooth marble railing was a single red rose. Tied around the stem was a slender ribbon that winked in the moonlight. Without a thought, Christine ran to it. Her heart was pounding, and her rushing blood sounded like a roaring river in her ears. Erik! She hadn't thought of him ever coming back to her. Their story had seemed finished when she left the lair for the last time. But she picked up the flower and stroked the crimson bloom. Then her fingers slid over the dark green stem. "Ack!" she hissed. Her eyes wide with shock and pain, she lifted her hand up into the moonlight. A drop of blood collected at the tip of her dainty finger. The rose had thorns! Erik had never given her a flower with thorns when she lived at the opera. His token had always been a long-stemmed red rose that hadn't yet bloomed. She frowned while continuing to inspect the mysterious rose. The bud was completely in bloom, the lush petals spread invitingly for her inhale the intoxicating scent. Bringing her face closer to the petals, she saw that there was a tiny black font scrolling across the arch of the bloom. Christine curiously squinted down but couldn't make out an image. She raised her head from the flower and scanned the surrounding area. She appeared to be completely alone still. Then she took the rose inside.

Sitting near a candle, she held the bloom near the flickering light. In the golden glow she began to understand a message. Written in a elegant but tiny font, it spelled - "Show me what you wish for the days to come." Christine closed her eyes. Long, silent minutes she spent in a state of deep meditation She was lost in confused, longing and painful thoughts and memories. Her eyes opened nearly an hour later. She looked down to to see the rose still bathed in candlelight. With a thoughtful sigh, she ran her fingers over the silky bloom. Then the girl daintily tore the crimson petals and held them over the small flame. They burned quickly, and filled the surrounding air with a sweet scent. When the rose was no longer beautiful, she reached for the naked stem. Deftly she untied the silk ribbon. She discarded it on top of her night stand, then returned to her balcony. Quickly, she tossed the bare stem out into the dark night. Then Christine guiltily returned to her room and flung herself onto her bed. She rose onto her elbows and looked over at the ribbon. It was the only proof that Erik had been to her balcony that night. The soprano left a trembling finger stroke the thin silk. Wearily, she brought the ribbon up to her face. The black silk was a contrast to her white skin. The harsh edges of the ribbon, which had once been dark as midnight, had seemed to soften. Christine dropped the ribbon back to the night table and blew out the candle. Her last thought was that the gold lining of the ribbon had matched the candlelight. Then sleep claimed her, and the rest of the night was filled with restless dreams.

The morning sunlight streamed through the filmy curtains along Christine's windows. She felt the warm heat fall over her face like a caress. Lazily, she opened her eyes and stretched. "Mhmm," the girl sighed with contentment. She leisurely rose from her luxurious bed and walked over to glass doors to her balcony. She let her head fall against the warm glass. Christine was a child of the summer, through and through. Smiling softly, she left the window and tied on her dressing gown. "I'm going to be married today!" the soprano sang to herself. Her turmoil from the previous night no longer bothered her. She felt as if it were just a dream, and that she would be creating the life she wanted to live that afternoon. At last, Christine believed that she would get her second chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Few Hours Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christine had been pampered, powered and corseted to perfection. Keeping true to tradition, she hadn't seen her husband-to-be that day. Wryly, she wondered when he returned from his midnight ride. The girl was sitting upon a cushioned stool in her room. Around her were vases of exotic flowers. If she squinted a bit, it was almost like she was in her old dressing room after a successful performance. But the vast size of the room, the luxurious finery and the lack of a huge gilded mirror reminded the soprano of her new role in life. She would play the ingenue no longer, nay, her permanent role was to be Vicomtesse. She brought gloved hands up to her hair. The heavy auburn curls were up-swept with strands of multicolored stones woven through. Her dainty veil had been secured to the top of her head, and the gauzy material had been fastened up for the time being. The soprano's wedding dress was lovely, though she couldn't help but remember the first wedding dress she had worn. It was completely different from the gown she now wore. Tiers of lace started at her waist and fell gracefully to the floor in a long train. More colored stones ran along the seams of her bodice, and long, sheer sleeves covered her arms. Her dress was feminine and summery, but still managed to give off an air of nobility and grace.

Christine pinched her cheeks for a flush, then rose from her seat. Her mind was a mess of excited and nervous thoughts. She spared a final, fleeting thought for that night. Christine had thought about it very frequently. Would it hurt? Would he think she was beautiful? How would she ever manage to be naked in front of him? How _much_ would it hurt? How would she look at him when it was done? Would he sleep with her? Would he be there in the morning when she woke? Christine anxiously exhaled, then gave a fleeting glance to the mirror. "I look fine," she reassured herself. Earlier that day, she had survived a viscous tongue-lashing from her mother-in-law, and if she could handle that, she surely could handle this! The soprano smiled to herself triumphantly and turned to leave the room. Then, quickly, she lifted her heavy skirts and ran to her night table. With shaking fingers, she lifted her long sleeve and tied the black ribbon around her wrist. The soprano guiltily lowered the sleeve again. The dark ribbon was only visible through the silk if one stared hard at her dainty wrist. She wasn't sure why she did it, but it felt necessary. Then she left her room.

The wedding ceremony was long, formal and overtly tedious but it passed by in a blur for Christine. Before she uttered her vows, she felt an intense moment of panic and remorse. What was she doing? Then the girl had looked up and into the doting eyes of her fiancee, and she regained composure. The ceremony concluded without a flaw and left Christine in a breathless state of exhilaration. She was a married woman! The massive wedding party left the stuffy church in a swirl of silk and jewels and all were directed to the luxe De Chagny mansion. A herd of ladies' maids rounded up the newlywed so Christine was spirited to her room. She was quickly changed into a summery gown of pink silk and lace. Her hair was released from the up-do and trailed freely over her creamy shoulders, and the bright jewels from the ceremony were replaced with white flowers. The only trace of her wedding finery was the new ring that adorned her fourth finger. It was nothing like the first engagement ring that Raoul had gotten her. The soprano's new ring was a large diamond shaped like a tear and surrounded by light emeralds and sapphires set int a dainty gold band. It was very pretty but felt heavy to Christine's little finger. She wore it with pride. After she was changed, the maids hastily sent Christine out into the gardens where a lively party had commenced.

"Ah, here she is!" Raoul gaily shouted. The group he was with all turned and gave Christine smiles. "Hello," Christine shyly murmured and strode to Raoul's side. He captured one of her hands and kissed it before safely tucking it into the nook of his arm. He looked dashing in his fine suit and his hair had been swept back. A new gold ring shone on his fourth finger. The men in his group all gave polite little bows to Christine. There were a few women, and they all shot bored smiles in Christine's direction. The girl knew that Adellyn, her mother-in-law, had arranged for a huge wedding party in the hopes of discomforting Christine. The Comtesse de Chagny had done everything in her power to persuade Raoul not to marry the former diva, but his heart nor his mind couldn't be altered. After the wedding ceremony, Adellyn had given Christine a hate-filled look, but the soprano knew her wickedness was at an end. As Raoul had told her, the de Chagnys would rather die then divorce. Her position as his wife was forever safe from his over-bearing mother from that point on. From her vantage point on being in the center of a crowd, Christine scanned the surrounding people. Her eyes finally landed on the cold beauty of Adellyn. She coyly waited until the older woman met her gaze, then she smiled triumphantly. Ha! After the Comtesse's torture, Christine finally relished her victory. She had won her happy ending.

The party didn't fly by like the wedding ceremony had. After the first hour, Christine grew weary of the constant congratulations and watching eyes. After the second hour, she realized that every single woman of the upper-class was an actress in her own way. She felt grateful for her stage training and relied on those skills to carry her through the long night. The singer from the Opera de Paris, Alais, showed up nearly halfway through the party and sang a few songs. Her beauty was like the summer rains; both wild and dainty. Every eye was fastened to her while she sang of love. Her voice was a pleasant and charming coloratura soprano. Christine knew that her own voice was superior. She bitterly missed the rush from singing. After her performance concluded, the new star soprano mingled around the guests. She was treated as a distinguished performer, but not given the carefree acceptance of a noble . Christine understood the sentiment. Finally, an hour before midnight, Raoul showed up at her side. Throughout the night he had both vanished then reappeared beside her. He had to talk to all of the guests whilst Christine only had to smile at them. "Ready to go, my love?" Christine vehemently nodded and Raoul merrily led her to the specially arranged carriage. He shouted a charismatic farewell, then led his new bride into their ride. The plush carriage immediately sped off into the night.


	17. Beating Hearts

Christine woke with her head on Raoul's shoulder. The carriage was dark. She slowly lifted her head and saw that Raoul was sleeping, and one of his hands was entwined with hers. She wondered how far they had traveled. Their honeymoon was to take place at a lovely villa on the warm southern coast. She tried to open the lacy blinds on the carriage's window, but stopped, knowing the movement would wake up her husband. Her husband! A smile lit Christine's features as she tenderly looked over at the man whom she would share the rest of her life with. A fleeting thought of the Phantom and a gut-wrenching feeling of guilt followed. Christine frowned and looked away from Raoul. Why couldn't she ever be happy with her life? She had everything she ever wanted. If only she could forget about Erik...Christine lay her head back on Raoul's shoulder and scooted closer to him.

The cruel sound of gunshots wrenched Christine from her heavy sleep. She jumped up in her seat and nearly banged her head on the ceiling. Raoul reacted similarly. "What's going on?" she gasped. Raoul shoved the lacy curtains aside and swore. "God-damned bandits!" Christine tried to see out the window, but only saw the dark night sky and the shadowy outlines of the surrounding forest. Raoul quickly reached over and locked the carriage's doors. "Raoul, what do we do?" she whispered. "Why hasn't the driver or one of the servants in the caravan come to get us?"

The right side of the carriage suddenly banged. A coarse voice called, "And what have I found here? This fancy carriage looks like it'll hold the rich leader of this caravan." A chorus of raspy laughter followed his statement. Christine's eyes widened with horror and the right side of the carriage continued to be thumped. Raoul earnestly drew Christine close to him. "When I say "now," I need you to run out the secret door of the carriage and into the forest. You need to keep running, no matter what. Don't let any of these men find you." He reached into his pocked and pulled out a few wrinkled bills. "Here," he whispered, putting them into Christine's trembling hands. The banging on the carriage door grew more insistent. He dropped his mouth over Christine's, and they shared a frantic kiss. "I love you," he rasped.

"Raoul, no! You have to come with me!" she mumbled. He shook his head. "You'll have more of a chance without me, and I need to stay here to defend my servants. Perhaps I can offer these bandits a ransom and that will sate them." He took a deep breath, pressed another quick kiss to Christine's cheek, then cried, "Now!"

He shoved her next to the small door on the left side of the carriage. Christine fumbled with the tiny lock, then nearly fell out of the carriage. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she lifted her skirts and took off running into the dark forest. There was no moon to guide her way. Behind her, she could her the raucous shouts of the bandits as they tore into the carriage that her dear Raoul was sitting in. A few of the cruel men had noticed her escape and they had run as far as the edge of the forest, but none bothered to continue chasing her. Christine didn't stop running. She tripped over the hem of her travel gown, fell over roots of the massive trees, and cut her hands when she tried to stop her falls. Small branches cut her face. Still, she kept running. Christine couldn't stop thinking about Raoul, and how he had sacrificed himself once again for her sake. But would he live this time?

After long minutes of running, Christine finally slowed. She reached a large tree, and leaned against it, her lungs aching. It was so dark that Christine could barely see a few feet in front of her. She wondered how she could have ran so far. Even so, Christine knew she had to continue on. She couldn't allow herself to fall asleep in the forest. The soprano slowly picked up her skirts and resumed her travel, only she chose to walk instead of run.

The sky had lightened drastically before Christine had found a way out of the forest. Her body ached more than she had ever known it could. A small dirt path was the only thing that guided her, but after following it for about an hour, Christine stumbled into a small town. Her exhausted eyes scanned the outcropping of buildings until she found the local inn. She tripped up the stone steps and entered the smokey building.

"What's this?" A raspy, but kind-sounding voice asked. Christine wearily looked for the source, and saw only an old man polishing a wooden bar littered with empty glasses.. The checking-in room seemed to be more of a tavern. It was nearly empty, with the last of the previous night's drinkers slowly leaving.

Christine nearly fell against the bar, and quickly whispered, "Sir! We were attacked by bandits! I know not if my husband and our servants live! Are there any local constables I could alert?" Her exhaustion caused her words to slur together. The old man ruefully shook his head and chuckled.

"Looks like this pretty little maid has had too much to drink. You, having servants? I think not." He gestured to Christine's tattered travel gown. "Here. Drink this," he said, and handed her a steaming cup of coffee. Christine gratefully drank it. After she finished, she attempted to straighten her gown. "Monsieur, I wed the Victome de Chagny just last night. I realize my appearance may cause you to believe otherwise. But..."

Christine was at a loss for what to do. She showed the man her wedding ring, and he finally seemed to believe her claims. She deliberated over spending her meager funds to buy a horse and search for Raoul, or to go to Paris and wait for him to arrive...if he was still alive.

She had cried in the forest, but again she felt tears and hysteria rapidly approaching. Christine desperately wanted to lie down and sleep, but every minute she wasted could be another minute of Raoul's precious life draining away.

"Madame, I suggest you pay for a room and wait for your husband to arrive for you. This is the closest inn to the road you were traveling on. There is no other town for many miles, regardless of where you travel to. Paris is far away. Going to search for the Vicomte would be futile, and you would probably encounter bandits anyways." The inn-keeper's no-nonsense voice comforted Christine, and deep down, she knew his plan was the most reasonable. "Alright." she murmured, and used a few of the wrinkled bills Raoul had given her to pay for a room.

The room she was given had only a small bed, a plain table and chair, and a basin with a bowl and pitcher on it. Christine immediately stripped off her ripped traveling dress, and collapsed onto the bed wearing only her underclothes. She fell asleep the moment her head hit the flat pillows.

"Madame! Madame, your husband is here!" The inn-keeper pounded on the heavy door to Christine's rustic room. Christine tried to open her heavy eyelids and understand what he was saying. After he repeated himself another time, Christine jumped out of the hard bed and threw open the door. "Raoul!" She shouted, but the inn-keeper was the only man outside her door. "Where is he?" the soprano cried. "He's waiting for you outside, in your carriage. He wishes to leave immediately," he replied. "Oh." Christine mumbled. She was immensely glad Raoul was alive, but she was shocked that he hadn't come to see her. That was must unlike him. Still, the young Swede smiled. "I'm just glad he's alright." She ruefully looked down to her wrinkled underclothes. "I suppose I should get dressed. Monsieur, thank you for all the help." She closed the door and went over to the bowl. After she had washed her face, she put her tattered dress back on and left the inn. It was dusk outside, so Christine assumed that she had slept through the whole day. The few buildings around the inn were deathly silent. The quaint town appeared to be completely empty, except for the lone black carriage waiting for her. Christine shivered at the eery atmosphere, and focused on the carriage. It was elegant, but completely nondescript, lacking the usual de Chagny coat of arms and splendor that Raoul's carriages usually had.

A servant she wasn't familiar with helped her into the carriage and gave her a friendly smile. "It's good to see you well, Mademoiselle Daae," he said kindly. "Mademoiselle Daae?" Christine asked with confusion. "Why are you calling me that? I'm Madame de Chagny." The servant only grinned at her. "I won't tell Raoul," Christine whispered, deciding to just brush off the servant's actions as a joke. She gave him a small smile, then finally entered the carriage. It was dim. She could barely make out Raoul's body across from her, nestled in the corner of the carriage. She wanted to leap into his arms, then realized he was probably sleeping. That was why he hadn't come inside the inn for her, or why he hadn't come running to embrace her. Feeling more comfortable, she settled into the velvety seat as the carriage took off at a brisk pace. She watched the trees blur by as the sun continued to set. When there was barely any light, Raoul began to stir. Christine immediately looked over to him, excited to watch him open his lovely blue eyes. He moved out of the shadows.

A white porcelain mask flashed at her through the darkness. "Christine..." he murmured, his voice beautiful. She sat completely still, the shock making her heart pound and her face pale.

"Erik."


End file.
